


In the Eye of the Beholder

by Ragga



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherly Love, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Knowing me, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, This Gained A Plot When I Was Not Looking, Uchiha Izuna Lives, Warring States Period (Naruto), What else is new
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2020-11-26 01:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 83,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20922023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragga/pseuds/Ragga
Summary: The war was endless, the battles in a stalemate, and the winter nearing. The signs said it'd be the coldest one yet. Madara knew that the Uchiha weren't ready and their survival was at stake if something wasn't done. Peace wasn't acceptable to most and running away wasn't their way. The only thing they had left were the old legends of their guardian deity, Amaterasu. Desperate times called for desperate measures.If they had to summon her Beloved to survive, then so be it.Or, the one where the winter is coming and times are grim, the Uchiha resort to desperate measures that bring unexpected results.





	1. Madara

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I'm dipping into the Naruto fandom after what's probably like a decade and a whole another website. I dropped out pre-time skip and even then I only read very specific things. Well, I guess this counts as a very specific thing too as the Founders' Era isn't that... widely spread. I don't even remember how I got here and now I've just been lurking for a while. Now that I think of it, that's my standard M.O., so it was probably inevitable that I contribute at least something.
> 
> In any case, I hope you enjoy :)

“Just listen to me!” Madara yelled. He waved his hand, throwing it out to gesture at the blackened woods of tonight’s pyre. “We lost three shinobi today! _Three_. Three of our clan, of our _family_, are gone! And they weren’t _the first this year_!”

Izuna’s expression darkened, sharingan flickering, forever memorising the scene. It hurt Madara to know that the grief would never leave either of them due to the bloodline that sometimes felt more like a curse than an asset.

“We are losing too many people! Our borders are being nipped at, being pulled away, while we are locked in this stalemate of a death match! We _need_ peace, Izuna! Not just because of me or Hashirama or any bullshit we dreamed when we were kids and didn’t know better but because of us, of you, _of our family_. I don’t want to lose any more of you if I can avoid it!”

“Do you think I want to see any of us die either?!” Izuna yelled back at him, finally breaking his stubborn silence. “Mika died today! Her son is now an orphan and there is _no one left to take care of him_. But the Senju can’t be trusted, they’ve killed _hundreds_ of our kin!”

“_And we have killed just as many of them_!” Madara slammed his fist on the wall and pieces of wood broke off from the force of it and clattered on the ground. “Izuna, please, if we can just get both sides to stop for a moment, we could prepare for winter. You know the signs say it’ll be one of the coldest yet. We need _time_ while we can still do something, and we can’t ready ourselves if we are at war on _every front_.”

Something hesitant broke Izuna’s angry visage and, for a moment, Madara’s heart elevated with hope. Then the expression was wiped away from his brother’s face and the little something was killed before it could even grow.

“Amaterasu will guard her people,” Izuna stated, invoking the Uchiha’s guardian deity almost like a curse, and stomped off towards their now all too big residence.

Madara stood there, for once silent, before he turned to watch over the setting sun.

“Do you?” he wondered aloud. “Do you guard your people?”

The deity didn’t answer.

She never did, no matter how many times Madara aimed his desperate prayers at the goddess.

Madara turned his back on the sun and walked back to where his grieving clanmates were honouring the ashes of their fallen kin.

He had better things to do than believe in someone that had left them behind.

***

The whispers grew.

They weren’t loud but everyone heard them; the desperate plea for Amaterasu to hear them and help them in their darkest hour. The little crops they had managed to grow weren’t doing well and Madara had heard that their most distant field, set on their most fertile land as well, had been burned by a rival. Izuna would have blamed the Senju except it wasn’t their style and the Uchiha first at the scene had recognised the culprits as a minor clan that didn’t align with either of them.

Madara pressed his face to his hands and groaned. That was at least a few weeks’ food they could’ve gathered there. Their storage was getting emptier by the day as they couldn’t replace the grain fast enough. At this rate they would have less than a quarter needed to survive.

They’d need to buy most of their stock which would dramatically diminish their coffers. As a clan focused on war and weapons, despite their agricultural efforts and knowhow, the results were more often less than perfect. Fire was in their soul, burning brighter than the sun itself, and it affected everything they did.

And, Madara grimaced, while great for moulding metal, it made growing things something most difficult. They’d managed to work through this before, but other clans had taken the warning to heart and lessened their own feuds in favour of preparing for the worst. Even the burning of their field was probably an accident while thieving, Madara thought as he read the report and his mind drifted.

With Mokuton hiding in their blood and one actual user amongst them, he was certain the Senju would be fine even with the whispers of the harshest winter in generations approaching. The little they had been able to spy—mostly when Hashirama’s thrice-damned sensor of a brother had been away, doing who knows what—had revealed bountiful stocks of grain and rice, enough for them and even a smaller clan or a few to survive. And with their ties to the Uzumaki and Hashirama’s rumoured engagement to their princess…

If only—

Madara shook his head, clearing his thoughts. The war had gone on far too long and there was nothing more he wanted to do than to accept the hand that Hashirama held out for a ceasefire—perhaps even for a true peace treaty. Yet, as things stood, it was a plain impossibility. While he was willing to bypass the elders and their demands if needed, without Izuna and his clan’s support that couldn’t happen. Madara was, after all, just one man, no matter his spot in the hierarchy.

He took out another missive, breaking the seal, and groaned out loud.

And now the Yamanaka had decided to cut their food supply. Great. That was just what he needed.

“Amaterasu be great!” someone yelled and laughed outside, young voices joining in, as what sounded like a crackling of a fireball was released into the sky. Madara’s head hit the table with a thunk. He heaved a sigh into the depressing scrolls before rolling his shoulders and pushing back up. He took out his quill and opened the cap of his inkwell.

He could remedy the situation. He would.

He would have to.

***

“Madara!” Hashirama yelled, joy and grief mixing in the call of his name, hand extended in an imitation of their childhood adventures. Madara turned his back on him and walked away from the field with another body to burn.

He could already taste the ashes on his tongue.

***

“—And let his body be carried by the winds to your humble abode. Amaterasu be great!”

“Amaterasu be great,” Izuna murmured with the rest of their clan as the hungry flames engulfed the pyre.

Madara bit his cheek until it bled, and he stared into the flames until they devoured everything in their way.

***

“We need the Blessed,” Masako said. The old hag of an aunt clenched her gnarled hand and brought it down with power reminiscent of her distant youth. “It’s the only way we can survive.”

“There has been no sign of white hair or red eyes in our clan since before Tajima took over,” Madara said. “Even with Izuru before him, the child died young and sickly. For decades no such birth has been sighted anywhere else either.”

“They must be in hiding,” Kentaro, his uncle, insisted. Madara wished he could scream the way he wanted to; he now understood why his mother had always rubbed her eyes the moment her little brother left the room. “We just need to look closer. Perhaps we have overlooked the smaller clans, I heard that in the mountains they also worship—”

“We have more important things to do!” Madara snapped. Screw diplomacy, he’d not listen to any other word if they ended with that blasted name again— “We have only managed to gather half the stock we need and that’s because we _begged_ the Akimichi and sold our craft twice as low as they were worth! We don’t need a godly miracle; we need to focus on ourselves—”

“Aniki,” Izuna interrupted him and Madara… allowed it. There was no salvaging the situation for him. The old codgers were too deep in their delusion. He waved his hand and Izuna continued.

“We can do both.”

No, Madara thought even as the elders nodded in agreement at Izuna’s attempt at peacekeeping. They could not. Because one half would be needed to defend against that godforsaken feud they insisted to uphold.

He would have to cut forces on the grain gathering front. Again. Unless…

“Fine,” he said. Tired. He was so tired. “But you are doing it yourself.”

With a few murmurs, both discontented and excited, the elders abated as if they had accomplished a major victory. Madara didn’t care as long as their efforts to prepare their stocks weren’t affected.

As he adjourned the meeting, Madara couldn’t help but wonder how many of them would be left by the end of the winter to argue against anyway? He couldn’t say but he was certain that, at the end of it, he would know. The young came first, always. And then none of them could have a say on how to ‘save’ the clan.

Not anymore.

***

“We can offer you more powerful tools,” Madara said. He had personally come to the Matsukawa clan to discuss sharing provisions. “A fire that would never burn out and protection against bandits and the like. As the winter nears, they will become more desperate for survival. Considering our dealings before, you know we’ll never go behind our word. You and yours would be safe during the winter.”

The man speaking for the clan nodded. He was youthful despite the age lines that adorned his skin, particularly between his eyes as if he spent much of the time frowning.

“The Uchiha know honour,” he agreed. Then the lines deepened, and an apologetic expression took over the previously neutral one. Madara’s stomach sunk. “The Matsukawa has always followed the same way, which is why I regret to tell you that we have already made a pact with another clan.”

Madara gritted his teeth but _refused_ to let his temper take over. He was desperate, he could admit that to himself, but he would _not_ show weakness in front of _anyone_. It took effort but he was proud how his voice didn’t show any of his internal conflict as he asked, “May I know which clan managed to come before us?”

Matsukawa Hisashi eyed him for a minute and that already told Madara he would not like the answer; and if he didn’t then the only clan that could be was—

“It was a young, short-haired man from the Senju. His name—”

Of course, Madara thought, hiding his spite into his tea. Of course it was _him_.

***

The next time Madara saw Tobirama on the battlefield, he almost went after him himself. Hashirama’s little brother often managed to raise his blood temperature but rarely on this level; he was always afraid he would get lucky and cut Izuna down but, this time, it felt more personal.

_He_ had gone to the Matsukawa and attempted to settle a mutual agreement, but it was also _he_ who left there emptyhanded. Because of whatever Tobirama had managed to convince the man of. They didn’t need any more food, Madara knew, so _why_ had he gone to the small clan specialising in agriculture? Was it to weaken the Uchiha? Did he know how desperate their situation was getting, how precarious their position?

In any other situation Madara could have admired the way the younger man could convince people to agree to pretty much any deal. If he was any other person, he might have even professed attraction for the sharp features and sharper tongue. He remembered how Hashirama had bragged about his little brother’s intellect and situational awareness, even if he was less likely to get social cues the same way; how Tobirama had once had a stalker for two weeks straight in form of a girl his age that only left him alone after Hashirama’s involvement.

Izuna leapt at Tobirama and Tobirama answered the stab by clashing their swords together, brown hair mixing with black, dark eyes refusing to meet sharingan red. The sparks glittered in the air and then the rest of their forces followed in suit.

Why, Madara thought, as he answered Hashirama blow by blow and watched from the corner of his eyes as Izuna did the same with Tobirama.

Why couldn’t he be for peace as well?

***

Madara wanted to hide his head in his hands but there was no way he could get away with that right now. So, instead, he sat with his back straight, arms crossed over his chest, with Izuna and Hikaku at his side, listening to the noises of his—mostly his father’s former—council pouring over the scrolls of old.

“It says here to call on the eve of the darkest day, when the sun is almost non-existent, and Amaterasu will show her face to her loyal brethren and bless them with her presence,” the gravelly voice of Madara’s uncle-in-law read. Kensuke, his mother’s uncle, raised his head and looked over where one of his father’s cousins was comparing two hefty scrolls herself. “Kikyo?”

“Here it says she will once again mingle with her people,” she said, pointing at the scroll on her left. She picked up the other one and read aloud, “’But careful be thee, for thou shall not force the Blessed; the Goddess Amaterasu shall pick the worthy and speak through the mouth of her Chosen.’”

“That’s what is written here too,” Hikaku murmured. Madara looked over the old kanji where, as Hikaku said, it claimed that Amaterasu’s Chosen would speak her truth to the world.

“This sounds more insane by the minute,” Izuna grumbled on his other side. He had let go of his own stack of papers, stretching his fingers and cracking his spine to get some feeling back into them. Neither of them had ever been a true believer but Madara knew that Izuna still fancied the tales their mother had shared before she had passed away birthing their dead sister; tales of a white-haired, red-eyed beauty with light in their soul and storm at their fingertips, who spoke and people listened.

He could understand the wish for such impossibility.

“We could always accept the Senju’s offer,” Madara said just as quietly. Izuna shot him a displeased grimace and, tellingly, picked up another old, dusty text to study. Unfortunately, however much Izuna fancied himself the realist of the two of them, it was only Madara who had seen the state of their clan and _accepted_ that particular reality.

Madara sighed inwardly, but the look Hikaku gave him made him wonder if he hadn’t managed to hide his own discontentment. Even if he had, he didn’t doubt that Hikaku knew where he stood on the matter. His cousin was smart and quick on his feet and the one Madara often turned to when he wanted to know the general opinion of his clan.

As the meeting dragged on and more and more obscure facts were unearthed, each one making less sense than the one before, at the very least one thing became certain. No one knew if the Blessed could actually do anything for them, except to act as the goddess’ mouthpiece. It was more likely that they would merely guide their way and nothing else, leave them high and dry to wish they had done more than thrown their lot to the whims of fate.

It would only be a last resort, Madara thought, grateful and almost amused. They would see the insanity of this soon. When they did, they could forget Tajima and Butsuma and everyone else that came before. They could start a new tradition, create a world without unnecessary death; a world where he didn’t have to worry about losing his only living brother.

He would just have to hold on and reign in his temper.

They would see it soon; he was certain of it.

They would.

***

Seven weeks and far too many deaths later and there they were.

The last-ditch effort.

It was cold. Everything was freezing and dark, the heat of their breaths disappearing in a mist before their eyes. The Naka river, still unfrozen, could swallow a man whole with its deathly grip. They were south enough that the snow that swept over the northern hills didn’t touch the ground here; still, it didn’t save them from the cold that seeped through their clothing and made home within their bones.

On the other side of the field, Hashirama stood with his brother and demon of a cousin. The earthy tones of their skin and eyes stood out amongst the cold sheen that surrounded them all. Hashirama seemed as lively as ever, yelling a greeting and attempting to send his well-wishes and offers of peace through the tension that could be cut with a knife. Touka, the horrid woman with one of the highest kill counts in the field, had a tight grip on her sword and her hair in a similarly tight bun, teeth bared like an animal. Even Tobirama was the same as always, silent at his brother’s side, the hair the same shade as his brother’s even if in a much more sensible cut. He had always wondered how they managed to look so similar but so different at the same time; why on Tobirama the colours just looked unnatural the more he stared.

The images burned into his sharingan could sometimes see a silvery sheen to the brown but, in the middle of battle, it could’ve just been his imagination or one of his famous water jutsu.

Madara felt more than saw the nervous energy that shifted through his clan. They were all there, more or less, from children old enough to hold a weapon to elders whose legs were strong enough to still carry them. In their midst, the selected few were preparing for the elaborate trap they were planning. They would close the field, letting no one escape, and call for Amaterasu’s retribution.

And she would come or else her followers would soon meet with death themselves.

Resigned, Madara shook his head at Hashirama and the almost perturbed look on his former friend’s face would have made him laugh in any other situation. The Uchiha were tired and hungry. There was scarcely any food left and a sickness had left many of them unable to hold a weapon without trembling at its weight. Izuna had caught it as well but, luckily, it had passed with just a scare. Many of their clan weren’t as lucky.

Oh, how his father would sneer at the clan’s development, Madara thought grimly. He should have tried more to keep his elder brothers alive if he indeed was turning in his grave.

“Madara!” Hashirama called and the Senju shifted on their feet behind him. Only Tobirama kept the resignation out of his features. “I heard you were hit with the travelling sickness! If you accept our offer for peace, the Senju medics are more than glad to heal your ill!”

Madara’s blood cooled and then burst in flames. His hands curled until his nails bit into his skin and blood flowed down his fingers. The unsure air around his clan dissipated like smoke in the wind.

Curiously, it was Tobirama that threw Hashirama a reproachful look before it faded back into a more neutral mask. Perhaps he understood more of the pride the Uchiha felt. Perhaps not. It didn’t matter in the end.

With that Madara knew that Hashirama didn’t truly understand the Uchiha, even with years of exposure. He still believed the peace was the answer but, perhaps, Izuna was correct as well. There needed to be a change, a drastic one, something that could bring the two together because the way they were now—

Madara was always playing to win. To survive.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?!” he yelled back. Izuna spat on the ground next to him, glaring in Hashirama’s direction. Touka brandished her sword in theirs. Madara raised his hand. “Men!”

The chanting started instantly by the priests hidden within the many Uchiha, confusing the Senju on the other side. It was no jutsu they knew; it was no jutsu at all. They all recognised the religious undertone, something the ninja rarely indulged—except perhaps the Uchiha.

No one had found any evidence on a Blessed being born. However, it was possible that one could be revealed within their ranks. In one of the oldest scrolls, barely legible anymore, Hikaku had discovered a ritual that would call on Amaterasu and she would bestow her gift upon one of the worthy. It would cover a specified area, filled with people young and old, and from the pool Amaterasu would choose one to speak through.

It was to be done only on the darkest of nights and darkest of times. If this didn’t count, Madara didn’t know what did. There were times he didn’t know if he believed in gods anymore and, if this didn’t work, then he could say that he had tried the old ways, gave respect to the stories his mother told and Izuna still loved, and was left wanting. No one could challenge him after that. They had no one else left to turn to, not some obscure god or goddess or a figure so blessed and beautiful they entranced the Sun Goddess herself to be her Chosen.

But if it worked—

Madara knew he wouldn’t be the chosen one. Not Izuna either, he didn’t embody the traits they had read on. He’d bet on a child or one of the civilian Uchiha in the clan. Mika’s son, Kagami, might be considered worthy.

The legends said that the Chosen was always blessed with inquisitive nature, beauty beyond mortal bounds, and a tongue that lashed sharper than a sword; intelligent and decisive but not arrogant, proud in their work without letting it go over their head.

Madara suspected a candidate like that to be hard to find. Anyone touched by a deity, no matter how pure of heart they were, could turn into the ugliest flower if they let their pride rule their actions. They’d find themselves deaf to the words quicker than Madara could run his sword through a civilian.

His interest was piqued when Touka paled and moved to grasp Tobirama’s arm. She was whispering to him intently but from this angle he couldn’t see his reaction. He did see Hashirama’s and he had never seen his former friend so afraid. He didn’t know what had garnered them such a reaction but, whatever it was, it was too late for them.

The barrier rose and the chanting grew louder than the blood on his ears. One of Hashirama’s branches burst through the frozen ground but the barrier held. Someone tried to shunshin out, but they were rebuffed and thrown to the ground; trying to run upwards received the same outcome. Madara watched as the Senju moved restlessly and he could no longer see where Hashirama was. The Uchiha yelled gleefully and stomped their feet and his breath caught when the words reached their peak—

Everything was silent. No one spoke. No one moved. Someone could have exhaled on the Uchiha side and the Senju would jump at the noise. And then—

Then the sky broke.

The clouds parted almost violently, and a pillar of light fell down as if the sun itself was clearing a path from the gods’ realm. Madara’s eyes hurt, his sharingan bled, but he couldn’t, _wouldn’t_, close his eyes. It was happening. It was the Uchiha’s deity that was coming down to meet them; Amaterasu herself was giving them a sign, she had not forgotten them, he was so sorry he had ever doubted her and he would spend every moment of his life remembering that she had not left them behind after all—

The column spiralled downwards, away from the Uchiha, and then a scream, multiple screams, a cacophony—all shrill and terrified—filled the air with it. Madara’s head whipped to the side to see the beam of light hit the ground in the middle of the Senju. The Uchiha were cheering, thanking the goddess for her grace and vengeance for their fallen loved ones. And Madara—

Madara was horrified. His childish glee fell apart like the sky earlier and only ashes were left as the Senju milled around the pillar of light, shouting jutsu after jutsu at it. Hashirama threw what looked like a whole tree at it but it burned away before it could even hit it. Touka cursed and her blades melted in her anger and the earth she raised to meet the light grumbled under the pressure. Even Izuna next to him let out what could almost be a whimper of fascinated horror; it seemed even he hadn’t imagined such an end to their rival clan, to Tobirama—

Tobirama, whom Madara couldn’t see anywhere.

As if his thoughts had summoned him, the light grew brighter and pushed the Senju away before dying into somewhat tolerable radiance, revealing the person that had been bound in the middle of it. Tobirama stood there, face turned up towards the sky and slack, eyes unseeing. Had Madara not had his sharingan active, focus pinpointed on the light and the figure there, he doubted he would have seen anything. Yet, he did, and he had the front row seat to watch how Tobirama’s armour melted from on top of him and the clothes he had on burned to dust. When the happuri shielding his face dropped to the ground like metallic drops of water, the shade of Hashirama’s brown eyes melted away with it, leaving behind a brilliant red to rival the sharingan. The brown strands whitened before his eyes as the colour washed away. And the red tattoos that Madara had thought only adorned his cheeks—

They were everywhere. They spread where the light caressed his skin, tiny little lines growing and forming patters that could have left artists weeping, and Madara’s eyes could trace the marks that any Uchiha would have recognised.

It was over almost as soon as it had started.

The light blinked once before fading into the winter darkness, barrier collapsing after it, leaving behind only the person the light had claimed as his own—only that was not the entire truth now, was it?

Madara watched as Amaterasu’s Blessed stumbled gracelessly to his feet, no longer held captive by the light, and how his brother and cousin swarmed him. They were clearly trying to see if he was hurt even as Tobirama collapsed into Hashirama’s arms, out like a light; his red eyes shielded by his lids and white tresses falling like snow over pale skin that glowed in the little light they had—the picture of otherworldly elegance the stories had painted even in his unconscious state.

Well, Madara thought, dazed, the absurd situation tugging his lips. That changed things.

And then he threw his head back and _laughed_.


	2. Tobirama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How? Why? I guess this is my life now. What even is a plan?
> 
> No promises on a regular schedule, unfortunately. I've made that mistake before.
> 
> (Also, thank you for the warm welcome!)

_Wake up._

Tobirama’s head pounded. His mouth felt dry as if he had drunk ocean water for a week straight. His senses, always so precise, were all over the place; no longer could he pinpoint the presences of Hashirama and Touka, not even the particular elders that hated him more than most, with the accuracy he was so used to. Instead, everything around him was smothered with thick mist that wouldn’t dissipate.

_Wake up, Tobirama._

Life and death blended together. Forest and fire came together as a forest fire so strong that only ash remained; the same ash that coated the insides of his mouth. Someone was yelling, multiple someones. He thought he could recognise a few of them but they disappeared in the cacophony before he could pin them down. He tried to move. His limbs wouldn’t even twitch.

_Wake up. Your presence is needed._

A woman kept calling for him. It didn’t sound like Touka or any other woman he knew. Her voice was somehow clear in the midst of the chaos; stronger even with the distant echo it held, as if the person was both near and far away at the same time.

_Wake up, my beloved. Our people need you._

Tobirama tried to open his eyes but they felt welded shut. Heavy weight was pressed against his chest and he couldn’t breathe in anything but short intakes. He could hear his heart in his ears.

_Yes, that’s it. Push through._

Someone jostled him and gripped him tighter. They felt warm against the cold that surrounded him. They felt like home, of care and love and desperation.

Brother?

_Harder._

The muscles in his legs tensed, remembering the feeling of trying to run away. He could recall the panic and fear, the life that was about to be ripped from him. Only… he was still here, wasn’t he? He was still here, brother.

Brother.

_Harder!_

He had to wake up. His clan needed him. Touka needed him. _Hashirama_ needed him. He couldn’t let him be alone; he needed Tobirama to stay focused on relevant matters, to remind him of the present, of the things that demanded his attention _now_ and not tomorrow. Hashirama needed him. _Tobirama_ needed him.

Brother!

** _Push!_ **

Tobirama’s eyes flew open and he gasped. The blood in his ears drowned the yelling that filled the air. He could only see the tearstained eyes above him, feel the rabid staccato against the palm he had clenched over Hashirama’s heart. The world was hidden away by the curtain of Hashirama’s long, long hair.

“Tobirama?” Hashirama whispered. Tobirama watched how the usually soft brown had grown dark with fear and grief. He unclenched and lifted his shaking hand, pressing his fingertips against Hashirama’s cheek. It felt wet. He traced the tracks he found there, felt a drop fall on his skin.

“I’m here,” he rasped. Hashirama grabbed his hand, gripped it hard, and without lifting his gaze from Tobirama’s, he yelled,

“He’s alive!”

Touka immediately appeared from outside Tobirama’s periphery and dropped on her knees beside him. He found himself surrounded by her scent as she pulled him from Hashirama’s protesting arms into her own.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” she ordered into his hair. He huffed a laugh that barely made a noise as it was suffocated by her shoulder.

“I’ll try not to.”

“Do better.” Then she let him go, looking over him critically. “Are you cold?”

He blinked, confused by her question. He followed her gaze and found himself—

“Why am I naked?” he asked. Then he realised something more concerning. “What happened to my body?”

The lines, which had appeared on him after Kawarama and Itama had died, had taken over his skin. Whereas they had been thin and almost translucent before—except for the ones on his face—they were now bold and bright red, almost glowing on the naturally pale skin he had inherited from his mother.

“They aren’t the only ones,” Hashirama said quietly as he gathered Tobirama back into his hug from Touka. He tugged on Tobirama’s hair that had fallen on his face—where had his happuri gone? if they had lost it—and—

“My hair.” Tobirama looked at the silvery white hair stupidly. He took them from Hashirama, a few loose strands escaping his hold, and tugged on it more harshly. It stung his scalp. Not a trick then.

“And your eyes.”

“White too?” he asked absentmindedly, eyes still locked on the pale locks.

“No, red. Like your… lines,” Hashirama ended lamely. He took the piece of clothing that was handed to him and draped it over Tobirama’s shoulders until he was mostly covered.

Tobirama frowned. There was something that was bothering him, more so than what had happened to him outwardly. “There was a light.”

“A big pillar of it.” Hashirama bit his lip, hesitantly glancing past Tobirama, before he visibly steeled himself. Touka raised her voice somewhere behind them and a few others answered in kind. “Did you…” he stopped, swallowed. “…Did you see anything? In the light?”

Tobirama tilted his head back and stared into the clouds that had taken over the sky again. He absently noted how he probably should feel cold by now, naked as he was, but he couldn’t find himself shivering. He didn’t think he was hypothermic either; he had none of the symptoms that he could recognise.

“There was a figure there,” he said finally. The scientist in him wanted to scoff at the claim but the one that had experienced more than his fair share of strange omens was more than willing to give it the benefit of doubt. “A woman, maybe. She was… speaking.”

“What did she say?”

Tobirama startled, head spinning around to see the man that had spoken, held back by several Senju standing in his way. Uchiha Madara stared back, inky black eyes staring back at him. Tobirama quickly averted his gaze.

“The woman,” Madara continued, impatient. “What did she tell you?”

“Madara,” Hashirama warned him. Madara ignored his former friend and Tobirama felt those eyes bore into him like they could pick him apart if he wanted to.

“Tell me.”

_Tell him._

Tobirama’s eyes widened as his head whipped around again, trying to see who had spoken. The only women around them were busy keeping watch on the Uchiha and didn’t spare him an ounce of attention.

“What?”

Madara let out an irritated sound that reminded Tobirama of a teapot. “I _said_—”

_Tell him_, the feminine voice said again, amusement pouring from it until Tobirama felt drenched in it. _Tell him to finally stick it with the old codgers and accept your brother’s hand like he wants to. I don’t want my faithful to suffer any more of this idiocy._

“Idiocy?”

“Tobirama,” Hashirama groaned as Madara let out another one of those whistle sounds. He waved his hand at them and narrowed his focus inward, now able to pinpoint the voice there.

_Idiocy,_ the voice agreed. _I doubt they even remember what started the war in the first place. I doubt you do either and I’d rather like if you all just got over it. Promptly, if you will._

Tobirama bit his tongue not to say anything untoward. He glanced in Madara’s direction before focusing on Hashirama. His brother was attempting to talk Madara down from whatever was going on but his grip was ever-tight on Tobirama as if he was unwilling to let him go at all.

_Yes, your brother._ The voice curled around his heart, somehow following its beat as it quickened. _He’s always wanted this, hasn’t he? Peace. Why not make it easy for your people and my faithful, put them out of misery and help them join forces?_

I don’t know what peace even is, Tobirama thought back at the voice. It laughed at him.

_Does anyone?_

Hashirama does, he thought immediately, but even then his own doubt bled in and the voice laughed at him again. Who even are you?

_My beloved, you can call me—_

“Amaterasu,” Tobirama whispered. Hashirama quieted down and Madara cut off whatever he was about to say, their focus snapping back on him like a loosened bowstring. Tobirama hesitated but, taking strength from being in his brother’s lap and the warmth that seeped into his side, met Madara’s eyes.

“Her name is Amaterasu, isn’t it?”

Something resembling delight strangely spread on Madara’s face. Another teapot sound could be heard from behind the Uchiha, higher still.

“It can’t be him!” Izuna wailed and raged, stomping over until he could glare at Tobirama from his spot. The Senju tightened their lines so Tobirama didn’t have to meet what had to be Izuna’s sharingan. “Anyone else but him!”

“You saw it yourself, Izuna,” Madara said, sounding oddly pleased with himself. “Amaterasu herself let her light wash over him and declare him her Chosen. Will you go against our patron deity because of your own grudge?”

Izuna visibly ground his teeth.

_Tell them._

“But it’s Senju!” he whined, sending a baleful look Tobirama’s way. “Worse, it’s _him_.”

“You were the one who insisted; you and the clan.” Madara was definitely smug now if he wasn’t before. It was really a rather annoying sound.

_Tell them, tell them—_

Izuna snapped curses at his brother and turned towards the sky, yelling rather incomprehensibly at it. What was he trying to communicate, that he was an idiot? Tobirama could have told him that without even divine intervention; him and his clan both.

_Tellthemtellthemtellthem—_

Tobirama shook his head, trying to drown the voice—a goddess, really? more like an unwanted pest—as it insistently blabbered until he could no longer bear it and yelled:

“Fuck off!”

He panted with exertion. He felt his muscles quiver under the strain and the voice fell silent though Tobirama could feel its amusement. It was still just as annoying as when he first woke up and tried his patience worse than anything in recent memory.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Izuna snapped back.

Except maybe Izuna.

Madara kneeled so he was more or less on Tobirama’s eye level. “I don’t think he was talking to you.”

“But who else—no,” the wretched Uchiha that had claimed him as his rival said. He sounded horrified, looked the part too from what Tobirama could detect from the corner of his eye. “You can’t be serious.”

“Senju.” Madara stared at Tobirama. It made him feel uncomfortable, to be under such scrutiny. “Tobirama. Is she still present?”

Tobirama wanted to say no. He wanted him and his bullshit goddess to just go fuck themselves and leave him alone. But the voice—Amaterasu, fine, not just a voice!—began anew the senseless blathering that put Hashirama to shame and Tobirama’s temper finally broke under the assault.

“Yes, yes she is, and she won’t _shut up_.” He could hear the whine in his own voice. Amaterasu pouted, he could feel it, and how her disembodied mouth opened to— “Fine. Fine!” Tobirama nailed Madara with the darkest look he could muster and spat out:

“She wants you to make peace!”

Amaterasu immediately fell into a self-satisfied silence as did the rest of the field, only less happy with themselves and more on the side of full-blown disbelief. Tobirama found himself the focus of attention of everyone around them; both Senju and Uchiha had somehow managed to gravitate towards each other until they were closer than ever before without trying to split one another in half.

“Peace?” an elderly Uchiha Tobirama didn’t recognise spluttered. “Amaterasu-sama wants _peace_? With the _Senju_?!”

“Is she out of her mind?” another voice joined in.

“…Has he finally gone mad?” one of their distant Senju cousins, Akira, asked. If Tobirama didn’t know about the mixed feelings his clan had about him—respectful because of his status as the heir apparent, cross because of his very nature—it might have hurt to hear the general opinion spoken aloud. As it was, he could have easily ignored it if not for the hiss Amaterasu let out inside his mind.

Madara just nodded as if it all made sense to him although Tobirama was pretty sure he was just as confused by the turn of events as he himself was. He tried to focus on his sensing, but he was immediately hit by what felt like a wall of solid migraine. He let out a soft noise of complaint and then his vision was filled with gentle green as Hashirama attempted to chase away the source of his discomfort.

“As the Blessed has spoken, we shall endeavour towards her will,” Madara announced formally, loud enough that his words would reach all of those on the field. Protests rose and fell, confused by the sudden agreement from the other side. “As of today, I declare a ceasefire on all hostilities the Uchiha have against the Senju,” he said as he met Hashirama’s cautiously hopeful expression.

“The Senju accepts!” Hashirama beamed. He reached past the wall of their clansmen and they clasped hands, signalling the deal between their people. Izuna sent a look of utter loathing over at Tobirama’s brother which he didn’t appreciate.

_He looks a little sour, doesn’t he?_ Amaterasu noted. She sounded surprisingly gleeful, considering he was one of her ‘faithful’. _Oh shush, if I don’t make fun of them, they’ll begin taking themselves much too seriously. Clearly I should have paid more attention but their boring rituals just kept making me fall asleep… No wonder they have no game!_

Tobirama’s eyes widened and he choked on his spit. Hashirama quickly let go of Madara and started fussing over him again, the green light returning to his hands. He waved his concern away and tried to stand up. Hashirama clearly didn’t share his enthusiasm about moving as Tobirama found himself unable to shift but few inches.

“Brother…” He tried to pour as much of his frustration into his voice as he could. Hashirama pouted in return.

“You just fainted!” he wailed. “What if you fall? You could break your ribs! They could pierce your lungs, and you know how hard it is to heal them. I don’t want you to die!”

Tobirama gave up and slumped, his heavy weight falling on Hashirama who took it with a pained grunt.

Exhausted. He was literally exhausted with them all.

As Tobirama found himself being lifted in the air—carried like a damsel in distress, he thought, displeased—Madara spoke again.

“I would like to offer Amaterasu’s Blessed a sanctuary within the Uchiha and our lands.”

“Brother!”

“Quiet, Izuna,” Madara hissed. “You wouldn’t protest this much if it was anyone else.”

Izuna apparently had nothing more to say to that as he fell into another disgruntled silence. Madara cleared his throat.

“Due to the fact that the Lady of Sun has spoken through Senju Tobirama, we hope he will accept our hospitality should he want it, or should our Lady so declare as her desire.”

“If this keeps going, I just might take you up on that,” Tobirama muttered, awkwardly shifting in Hashirama’s arms. He had to admit, the constant attention he had to pay to his surroundings, not being able to rely on his sensing, was taking a toll on him. The moment he had relaxed, his mind had started drifting, inching closer and closer to oblivion than he wanted to. He had so much to do—

_Just go to sleep, my little chosen one,_ Amaterasu cooed at him. _You’ll need all your energy tomorrow to begin the peace process._

“Just go fuck yourself,” he mumbled. Hashirama said something to him but he was no longer aware enough to understand such complicated concepts as words. The last thing he heard before losing consciousness was Amaterasu’s delight.

_I think you are my new favourite._


	3. Madara

“Ceasefire?” Izuna spat out the moment their front door closed. He chucked his shoes to the corner reserved for them and they bounced off the wall into the haphazard pile. “Ceasefire! With the Senju! After all this!”

Madara kicked his own off, stumbling towards their kitchen. He needed tea. Strong tea. Fuck sparing their reserves, he deserved some today. “You heard me. And you heard Amaterasu.”

“I saw a freak show that turned that Senju freak into a freakier freak show!” Izuna glowered. “How do we know he was even telling the truth?”

Madara examined the leaves and just poured half more into it. If it became bitter, then it’d still be sweeter than the air in the Uchiha compound. He carefully set the water to boil and didn’t even touch the mugs yet; he’d only break them if he did. As it was, his nails dug into his skin, leaving crescent marks.

“_You_ were the one who wanted to do the ritual,” he said, voice shaking. Madara had wanted to just leave it, just think of survival, but _no_, revenge had become so much more important to the elders. He wondered when the same had happened to Izuna. “You and the elders were the ones who thought the Sun goddess would enjoy bloodshed more than the continued survival of her people.”

Izuna tugged at his armour, swearing as one of the straps had double knotted. “No! Fuck those old tales, I didn’t believe them any more than you did!” he said, finally throwing the thing off of him. “You _know_ that if I had just agreed with you and been all ‘la-di-daa, the Senju way or no way’, they would have revolted!”

“It’s not about ‘the Senju way’, it’s about _living_!”

Izuna pointed at Madara and shook his finger at him. “You know as well as I do that they have the trust of our people; they survived when many others didn’t. If we walk over _them_, then where does it leave the rest? What do you think our people are, soldiers that don’t think?”

“And _you_ know as well as _I _do that that isn’t true!” Madara’s temper snapped. His voice elevated with his anger. “I have tried and tried to keep them alive and the old ways aren’t doing it!”

“Then we need to get this conflict over with and start anew!” Izuna argued. “And the best way is to remove the obstacle from our way!”

“When did that happen, Izuna?” he turned to his little brother spitting sparks at him. “When did you put killing Senju above serving out clan?”

“Killing Senju _is_ serving our clan!” Izuna’s hands were everywhere, gesturing wildly. “With them gone, we wouldn’t have to fear constantly over our lives! Don’t you remember how they’ve killed our uncles, cousins, even our elder brothers?!”

Madara froze. He took a shaky breath but his chakra went wild and mixed with Izuna’s anger-grief-fear, enhancing his own.

“I remember,” he said. And did he ever; he had been close enough to sense two of them and present for the last one. His voice sounded like it was coming from far away and not his own mouth. “I remember. All too well.”

The pain was almost visible around Izuna. “Then how can you even _think_ of forgiving them, _living_ with them?”

“Because hating doesn’t bring them back!” Madara yelled. He slammed the whistling kettle on the tabletop. The heat hurt but it was barely a blip within the storm that raged inside him. “Arima and Akira—they were on a mission and they died in that _fucking_ gorge. They were already dying from their wounds, they even knew it themselves since they sent the missive through Reika; if anything, what the Senju who happened on the scene did was _mercy_.”

His cheeks felt wet. He had been but five and Izuna barely older than a babe himself. The twins had died just at the edge of his range and hadn’t their sudden disappearance _hurt_.

“And Takuma—”

“Brother—”

“No,” Madara pointed at him, imitating Izuna’s stance. He absently realised the liquid on his hand was a thicker red than the rest of the world. “No, you need to hear this. I’ve tried to protect you, Izuna, but you _don’t let me_. I don’t want to lose you like Takuma; I don’t want you to be butchered like fucking _cattle_. It was that _bastard_ Butsuma that did it and he laughed. He _laughed_, Izuna.”

The expression on Izuna’s face was unattractive until it broke and then even more so. Eyes red, cheeks puffed; he was crying. Izuna kept hiccupping, those same quietly loud, ugly sobs that every Uchiha of their line was cursed with. Madara’s throat was hurting and the breath he took hitched.

“He knew who he had just killed. You weren’t on the field yet, you didn’t see it. But _I did_. And if I can prevent that from happening again, if I can prevent _anyone_ from feeling and remembering it like I do, then I will fucking do it. Even if it means I will believe the word of the son of the man that killed Takuma, even if it means that I will have to accept that hand, to believe that Amaterasu really did show her face finally, after all these years—”

“How can we even deny that?” Izuna asked wetly. His laugh was hollow, defeated. “That blasted lightshow—”

“And you—” Madara wiped the snot from his face. “You are still alive! If we continue like this, I can’t swear you’ll—that I’ll—” He shook his head and his voice broke. “Don’t do it to me, Izuna. I won’t make it. If you die, you’ll take me with you. There’s no world for me if you are gone. _Izuna_—”

Izuna flew across the room and threw his hands around Madara. They fell on the floor and Madara’s spine hit the hard floor painfully, his armour pressing against his sides, but Izuna was a comfortable weight on him.

“Fine,” Izuna mumbled into Madara’s shoulder. His hair had become loose from his ever-present ponytail and scattered messily over his back. “Fine. I just—_fine_.”

“Izuna?”

“I’ll fucking do it,” he said wetly. “You—this will end horribly. You and Amaterasu both, I don’t know what the hell you can even see in those bastards. Fuck them, fuck you, fuck all of you! I can’t change your mind, can I?”

Madara pet that silky, tangled hair. Akira had had the same hair; he remembered playing with it, enjoying the smooth touch. He had been so jealous of it once upon a time.

“No,” he said slowly, curling the hair around his hand and tightening his grip. “I’m going to see you survive, even if I have to tie you down and lock you into your room for the rest of your days.”

“Well,” Izuna hiccupped. “That’d be no good for my complexion. I _guess_ I have no choice then. But I’ll be sure to tell you ‘I told you so’ when this stabs you in the back. Someone has to guard that side of you since you’re so willing to show it to the wolves.”

The red started fading and Madara closed his eyes, leaning into his brother and breathed in the scent of the lotion he favoured. It still peeked through the sweat of terror he could tell didn’t belong there.

“Sure you will.”

“Are you doubting me?”

“You just want to do it yourself.”

“Psh.” Izuna snickered. He rubbed his wet cheek against Madara. “If I did, you’d totally deserve it.”

“And see it from a mile away.”

“OY!”

***

“We need to get the clan on our side,” Madara murmured, nursing his cold tea. Izuna hummed, combing the ends of his hair absently. “Something that lets them know this does not spell our doom.”

“Even though it does.”

Madara chucked a kunai at him. Izuna just tilted his head, letting it clatter on the floor. Then, finally, his little brother nodded.

“All right, so, listen. You need to call the whole clan to the centre square…”

***

“Ceasefire? Ceasefire!” Kentaro yelled after the whole clan had gathered to the centre of their compound, every person from children to elders; only those too sick to move had been made exempt. “What were you thinking, nephew?”

“Uchiha-sama.”

Kentaro turned to Izuna. “What?”

Izuna lifted his chin. His tone was haughty when he said, “During a clan meeting, the clan head is to be referred by his title, not through familial ties. Don’t you remember?”

“You—!”

“Enough!” Madara barked. He stood in front of the whole clan and the clan head’s residence, hands clasped behind his back. Izuna bowed his head and took his place on his right just a step behind him. Kentaro sent him a mutinous glare but stepped back into the uneasy crowd.

Madara cleared his throat. The silence felt oppressive. Usually the chatter couldn’t be completely silenced—the Uchiha were an opinionated lot and the muttering was ever-present—except for now. They were all looking at him, unsure and almost afraid.

“Uchiha!” he called. “Most of you were on the battlefield today and saw the events transpire with your own eyes. The ones that didn’t, well, you’ve probably been filled in already. If not, well, congratulations! We have found Amaterasu’s Blessed.”

This broke the unnatural silence, if only with discontented murmurs. Madara nodded. “The elders decided they wanted to call for our goddess and ask for her grace during these dark times as they used to do in the olden days. She answered; clearly she hasn’t forgotten us even if she has taken a seat back and let us live our lives the way we wanted to. However, her choice has made it clear that we have disappointed her.”

Madara’s grip on his hands tightened. “Amaterasu did not pick a single Uchiha as her Chosen. This is a sign that we need to repent. The one that encompasses her will the most is Senju Tobirama.”

“How is this possible?” a man in the middle of the crowd yelled.

“A Senju?” a woman at the left end gave her two bits. “The goddess must be mad!”

“We don’t know the ways of the divine,” Izuna inserted. He spread his hands in a gesture that was generally known as ‘beats me’. “I couldn’t even guess why Amaterasu chose as she did. _I_ can’t see those qualities in that man; in any Senju, if I speak truly. But she sees more than we can, even with these eyes she has blessed us with. Who are we to deny her truth?”

“The Senju hate us!” Kikyo said. “They want us dead!”

“Yes!”

“They killed my husband!”

“And my daughter!”

“Cousin!”

“Grandfather!”

“Sister!”

“And so have we!” Madara yelled, mostly to silence the growing dissent. “And where has that left us? With on-going war, enough resources that the young will survive but us adults will starve the coming winter, and Amaterasu herself giving her blessing to a non-Uchiha! Does this mean you will forgo your faith, your _living_ family, for a grudge that will whittle us away until there’s but too few to call a clan? Is _that_ what you want?”

The Uchiha shifted before him, unhappy and disquieted. Madara sighed.

“I have been trying to do everything I could so we could manage. I see no other choice for us.”

“You’ve wanted this even when Tajima-sama was alive,” Kentaro accused.

Madara didn’t flinch. “And what if I have?” he asked. “Alone, we die; together, we survive. I saw it when I was a child. Now, I don’t claim to be omniscient, I’m not a god. However, our patron goddess, _Amaterasu_ _herself_, saw it too, so it must mean there is something to it.”

He finally removed his hands from behind his back, slamming a fist against his chest. “I am your clan head, have been for years. Have you ever found me acting without your best interests in mind?”

No one answered.

“Well?” he asked again, louder this time.

“No!” a child yelled. He found himself watching Mika’s son frown up at him. “Madara-sama is always working hard! He always gives his best! And he has nice hair!”

“Hear that, brother?” Izuna murmured, amused. “You have nice hair. A top three quality of yours.”

“Shut up, shampoo monster,” Madara grunted. If only Amaterasu had picked the brat as her chosen champion; it would have made this mess a lot easier to manage. He raised his voice. “Thank you, Kagami. Does someone disagree?”

The murmurs grew louder but there were more headshakes than not. Madara nodded.

“Then you will also agree that I don’t have to ask anything from you. I am your leader. I can do as you wish. But I have tried to be fair and let your voices to be heard above my own desires. I _did_ as the Uchiha older and wiser than I counselled me even when I disagreed. However, our goddess has taken my side. Yet, I swear that even with this divine mandate, I will not lead you blindly. I want this, yes. I don’t deny it. But I will fight for you. You hear me?”

“Yes, Uchiha-sama!” The chorus was loud and mostly unanimous. He could see troubled looks in the midst of his people; mainly on the older generation. They had to realise he wouldn’t be so easy to persuade to their will now that he had turned most of the clan to his side. It was probably the only good thing that came out this scheme that blew on their faces, as Izuna put it.

Madara nodded sharply again.

This peace wouldn’t be for them. It wouldn’t even be for Madara; he was too old even at his twenties, had seen too much, lost too much. It would be for their children, for their future, to give Izuna a chance to live for himself and not just for the next battle.

“I will not disappoint you.”

He hoped.

Amaterasu lead him, they would have peace. As he turned away and walked back inside his house, Izuna stayed behind to listen to their people, to answer their concerns, as was his duty as Madara’s heir and second-in-command. Madara itched to just throw himself on his futon and sleep the day away but he needed to send Hashirama a message and request a meeting. If the Uchiha wanted to survive, they needed the peace talks under work quickly. And a draft, he needed a draft of their demands, something to counter the ones the Senju would inevitably have.

He sat heavily at his desk and snagged the inkwell from beneath what looked like their grain storage estimates. He forcefully ignored the dangerously low numbers and picked an empty scroll from the pile.

Madara bit his lip and chewed it harshly. He tapped the paper as he glared out of the window at the moon. The silver light illuminated the compound in its pale glow—a familiar colour.

He would also need to add another request, this time one he thought he’d never have a reason to ask.

He needed to talk to Tobirama.

***

Two days later and Madara was fuming.

He spat sparks and tore the note he had written to pieces. He glared at the innocent letter sitting in front of him, marked with the Senju sign and mocking him with its message.

Hashirama had declined.

Not the peace talks, no; he was definitely happy to see them happen and had suggested the Naka river—the sentimental idiot—as their negotiation ground. He had even said they could ask a third party to oversee them if his people felt that was needed.

Only they would have to go forth without Tobirama’s presence.

He hadn’t even given a reason, just _refused_ his one, _single_ request.

Madara chucked the pieces towards the pile he’d have to burn before anyone got their hands on them. He’d never live it down if Kensuke saw it. His mother’s older brother was such a stick-in-the-mud for all things proper. He had almost died the first year he took over Tajima. He shivered. If Izuna hadn’t distracted their uncle with his antics, their family might have had a tragedy or two by the end of that year.

There was a knock by the door and Madara lifted his head. Izuna leaned against the frame, pointedly staring at the small mountain by his feet.

“Shut up,” Madara muttered.

“I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“So don’t.”

Izuna sighed. “You were so ready to start that whole process two days ago. What changed?”

“Nothing.” Madara grabbed a scroll from the severely depleted pile. He needed to send a reply, to somehow convince Hashirama to let Tobirama come to the negotiations. He _couldn’t_ just deny Madara access to his brother. Tobirama was now irrevocably tied to the Uchiha, whether any of them wanted it or not. With him actually admitting to having heard Amaterasu’s voice, it was practically a sealed deal. How _dare_ the annoying oaf to—

Madara glared at the spiteful demand-not-a-plea he had written and tore it up like everything else he had written that day. He narrowed his eyes at the pitiful decidedly-not-a-stack of his remaining three scrolls. Kentaro rarely sent any messages. He probably wouldn’t miss if Madara sent Izuna over to steal a few. Or maybe he could make it a game for the kids…

“Let me guess. You fear Hashirama will throw you under a tree if you take one step closer to his precious little freak show.”

“Don’t call him that,” he grumbled. He tapped his quill at the inkwell.

“Or what, Amaterasu will smite me?” Izuna snorted. “She’s probably already regretting her choice.”

Madara grunted.

“Also, don’t think I didn’t notice you not denying the first part.”

“Shut up.”

“Eloquent.”

“I’ll throw _you_ in the pond.”

“Ooooh, scary. I am afraid. Look at me, I’m quivering on my feet.”

“Did you have anything important to say or are you here just to annoy me?!” Madara snapped and sent his darkest glare at him. Izuna merely raised his brows.

“Can’t I do both?” he taunted. When Madara was ready to make good with his words, Izuna raised his hand and Madara saw him holding a small scroll.

“What’s that?”

“The answer to all your woes.” Izuna flipped the scroll into the air and snagged it back up. “The Senju sent you a message.”

Madara groaned. “What does Hashirama want _now_?”

“It’s from Tobirama.”

Madara rose to his feet so quickly the chair fell backwards and clattered on the floor. “What? He did? What—what does it say?”

Izuna stared at the chair for a long moment and then lifted his eyes to Madara’s. Madara glowered. “Don’t even start, _you’ve_ done worse.”

“I’m not saying anything. Also, you have no proof,” Izuna said. He flipped the scroll again. “I don’t think you’ve earned this. Maybe when you have—”

“Just give it to me!” Madara said, loudly, with all the restraint that he had learned from being an older brother to a brat like Izuna.

“Fine, fine.” Izuna tossed the scroll to him. When Madara caught it, having to reach for it because Izuna could never make things easy for him, his messy mop of hair fell all over his face. He tossed it back until he could see clearly, ignoring Izuna’s amused huff.

_Uchiha Madara_, he read the simple, neat handwriting with none of Hashirama’s loops and flourishes_. I disagree with Hashirama. Meet me three nights before the negotiations by the large waterfall past our lands. Don’t answer this message. Come alone._

_Senju Tobirama_

Madara lifted his head, his face splitting into a large, sharp grin. Izuna rolled his eyes.

“Yes, yes, I’ll make sure no one knows you left. But you better flare your chakra immediately if something happens, you hear me? This protection thing goes both ways.”

Madara grabbed his quill and scribbled a note, agreeing to meet Hashirama in four days’ time. He signed the message and pressed his seal onto it, tying it tightly and tossing it to Izuna. “Send this back to Hashirama and come back immediately after. We need to start planning our demands.”

Izuna twirled the message. “Shall I get the elders?”

“Tell them we are holding a meeting the day after tomorrow so they have the time to prepare.” And we have the time to counter them, he thought but didn’t voice.

His brother saluted and closed the door after him. Madara picked up his chair and looked outside at the cold, hard roofs lit up by just as cold, bright sun. He absently tossed Tobirama’s message up and down before breathing a small katon to burn it to a crisp.

Tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's up with the Senju, hmm?


	4. Tobirama

The world around him was loud.

That was the first thing Tobirama noticed when his consciousness started creeping in. The little twirls of chakra and the swirling, frantic beats of emotions colouring them got stronger with each breath he took. Carefully without opening his eyes he spread his senses little by little. The chakra obeyed him, showing him more of the world around him than he could see with naked eye and the uncontrollable mess of information slowly trickled into something he was used to managing.

The wall wasn’t there. The pain wasn’t either.

With a deep exhale, Tobirama opened his eyes. He tilted his head, noting that he was placed on his own bed, carefully tucked in and blankets surrounding him. He felt hot.

Hashirama was staring at the ceiling next to him. Sitting with his legs crossed, he was absently rolling a brush in his hands and a mostly empty scroll if not for messy doodles in front of him. His chakra, always reminding Tobirama of all things living—of home—was fluctuating worryingly. The calm he presented outwardly wasn’t there when the façade got broken in.

Tobirama opened his mouth to speak but he could only cough as the dryness of his throat surprised him. The brush in Hashirama’s hands clattered on the floor.

“Tobirama?” Hashirama breathed as if he was seeing him for the first time. “Tobirama!”

Then his brother was instantly at his side, lifting him to sit and pressing a cup of pleasantly cool water on his lips. Tobirama took a few eager gulps before he pushed it away so he wouldn’t get sick. Obediently Hashirama fell back, placing the cup down.

“The Uchiha?” Tobirama rasped. His throat hurt with the water having enhanced its dryness. He spread the little saliva he had on the roof of his mouth, soothing the pain momentarily.

The smile on Hashirama’s lips was fleeting but brighter than the sun. “There’s a ceasefire in place,” he said. “There will be no more attacks for now.”

“Dead?”

“No one.”

“Wounded?”

“None. Misaki got a bit trampled on in the chaos but she’s already up and running again.”

Tobirama snorted, smirk worming on his face. The girl was more demon than anything else but at least it made her resilient. She was deadly with her earth jutsu and even more dangerous with her temper. “That’s good.”

“How are you dealing?” Hashirama pressed his hand against Tobirama’s forehead, feeling for his temperature. Tobirama endured his fussing for three generous second before he swatted the hand away.

“I’m fine. Did you heal me?”

Hashirama’s brows knit together. “There was nothing to heal. Why? Are you hurt?” His hands started glowing green before they faded again. “I don’t—there’s nothing I can do.”

“I told you, I’m—” Tobirama kicked the covers off and instantly froze. The little lines on his skin, the ones that once had been almost invisible, were the same red as the ones on his face. He opened his yukata to examine them closer. As if they were painted right on his skin, he noted. Almost like tattoos but Tobirama had never seen ones as delicate and bright. They seemed to glow against his pale skin.

“Are they on my back too?”

Hashirama nodded. He settled the blankets around him so Tobirama was comfortable before he stood up and walked away. Tobirama absently followed his chakra signature as Hashirama reached their shared bathroom and returned with two mirrors. He gave their mother’s decorative one to Tobirama while he himself held the one they usually used. The yukata fell on the bed when Tobirama shrugged it off and he watched as Hashirama reflected his back to him.

He stared.

“Is that a _sharingan_?”

Hashirama’s mouth twitched at his aghast tone and his chakra jumped with it. “Not exactly.” He pointed at the spots where the elegant lines clearly went past the limits of their rivals’ eyes. “Touka went to look for any and all information on Amaterasu that she could find in our library. That’s her symbol.”

They both studied the symbol encompassing almost his entire back. Eventually, Tobirama sighed.

“I don’t think either of us expected this to end up the way it did.”

Hashirama barked a laugh. It was harsh and short in Tobirama’s ears. “No,” he said. “I don’t think we did.”

“What the priest said…”

“’His fate is tied with the Uchiha now’,” Hashirama quoted verbatim, as if the words were carved into his heart. “’They will kill the him you know and that will be the unravelling of the future you are seeking.’”

Tobirama frowned. He reached behind him and traced the tomoe over his right flank. “I’m clearly not dead.”

“At least Father was wrong about that.”

“Do you think you were right then?”

Hashirama shrugged. “Madara sent a request for peace negotiations. I think that qualifies as my approach winning.”

“Father never did manage to destroy them completely no matter how hard he tried,” Tobirama said. He tapped the tomoe and then withdrew his hand. He frowned. “Then he died in vain.”

“Just so they couldn’t kill you,” Hashirama agreed. “It was the only time he ever showed he cared.”

But for his son or his ambitions, that was something neither of them knew. And look how it all turned out. More of their clan killed than ever should have, Butsuma’s growing frustration over his own failures that he took out on his sons and all the ire of the older generation pressed on Tobirama that Hashirama barely managed to alleviate. They all knew he was the root of their suffering but not for whys or hows; none but the clan head’s immediate family ever knew the reason behind the renewed intensity of the war, hidden in case it ever reached the Uchiha ears.

And now this.

Tobirama shook his head. He rolled his shoulders and pulled the yukata back on, hiding the damning red from sight. It was chilly in the room after all. “When are the negotiations then? I need to start preparing.”

Hashirama smiled at him gently. He pressed his hands over his chest and pushed until Tobirama was lying on his back again. A few stray locks fell from the messy bun Hashirama had put his hair into. “You,” he tapped Tobirama’s nose, “aren’t going to do anything today. You are recovering.”

He wasn’t happy about the order but Hashirama was the medic of the two. “All right,” he grudgingly agreed. “But tomorrow—"

“And after that,” Hashirama continued, “You won’t make an appearance by my side when we _have_ agreed on the time and place. I don’t want you anywhere close to the Uchiha.”

A hiss echoed inside Tobirama. He scowled.

“Do you think I would go against your wishes, brother?”

“No.” Hashirama leaned in and kissed Tobirama’s hair softly. “You have always been exemplary in your behaviour.”

“Then why?”

“I don’t trust them,” Hashirama said plaintively. “They did something to you, something that they might use to take you away. Before I can make sure they won’t do that, that they won’t hurt you, I will not allow you near any of them. Not even for Madara.”

So his presence _had_ been requested. The angry hissing got stronger.

“I thought you trusted him.”

Hashirama sighed. It was a quiet one, ending on a wistful note. “I did—I do. But until I know the priest’s words weren’t literal, I won’t risk you. You could have died yesterday, Tobi. When they initiated the ritual—I felt helpless. You were right next to me and then the light shone down and I couldn’t reach you.” Hashirama tugged Tobirama’s arm, twining their fingers together. “Only when it was over—I almost thought you weren’t breathing. When I saw your chest rise and fall, it was the happiest moment of my life.”

Tobirama squeezed Hashirama’s hand. “I’m fine.”

“But you could just as well not have been,” Hashirama said and smiled. It was a sad little thing. “You are the reason I sought peace in the beginning; if you die, it will all have been for nothing.” He let go of their hands and stood up. “Touka will be here in a moment. She’s going to keep you company while I send Madara a reply and have a ‘chat’ with the elders.”

It was strongly implied by his tone that he was just going to push against them until they either agreed or gave in. His brother was good enough at persuasion, his friendly nature saw to it, but it was also not Tobirama who was more stubborn of the two. It was the reason Butsuma had always butted heads with his eldest and Tobirama had learned to mitigate the damage.

“You are putting her on my guard detail.” Tobirama still wasn’t amused at Hashirama’s decision. “As if I were a defenceless child.”

“You are the most precious thing to me,” Hashirama said simply. “We will have peace and then you won’t have to worry about any of them being your doom.”

“Brother, be reasonable. You are going to need me at the negotiation table.”

“You can help with the terms when we come back with the drafts.”

“It’s not the same and you know it.”

“I do,” Hashirama admitted. “You are far better than me at these sorts of things.”

“So then—”

“No.” The resolve in Hashirama’s tone stopped Tobirama’s protest before they could even start, the words dying on his lips. Hashirama lifted his hand and traced the line on Tobirama’s cheek. “I’m sorry. I will make it up to you, I promise. You can help with all you want but… Promise me you won’t try to show up to the negotiations. Please?”

Tobirama crumbled at the desperate plea. Hashirama rarely asked anything of him and now that he did Tobirama found himself unable to deny him.

“I promise.”

Hashirama let out a breath of relief. “Thank you.”

“They will ask questions why I am not there.”

“I will make an excuse,” Hashirama said confidently.

“I still expect to oversee all the drafts and demands,” Tobirama warned him.

“Anything you want,” came the instant reply. Then his brother added, sheepishly, “Just, you know…”

“I’m not going to endanger my life, brother,” Tobirama said dryly. Hashirama leaned in again, brushing the white locks away from Tobirama’s eyes.

“I know. I love you.”

And that said it all, didn’t it?

“…I love you too.”

***

_You need to go see them._

Tobirama opened his eyes. The night was falling and Touka had just gone to get them some tea since neither was feeling like sleeping yet. He had entertained the thought that he had imagined it all, the voice, the childish demands, while ignoring the growing discontent somewhere beneath his breastbone…

No such luck.

“I promised,” he said simply. He felt the huff more than heard it which was a strange and a rather unwelcome feeling. It was vaguely violating that someone had just decided to move inside his very soul and make a nest out of it. Which, on the other hand, was interesting because this seemed to prove they did have souls and, perhaps, there was a true afterlife for his brothers. The rational part of him wanted to scoff at the thought; the side of him that had once been an older brother not so much.

_They need me_, Amaterasu insisted. _They need us!_

“Then you should have picked one of the Uchiha instead.” Tobirama leaned against the window and stared at the dark sky. For once it was clear and he could see the stars shine down upon them.

_It wouldn’t have worked_, came the mutinous reply.

“Why?” he asked. Amaterasu grumbled something he could make no heads nor tails of. Tobirama sighed. “I can’t even see you. How am I supposed to have a conversation with a mere voice?”

_You don’t like my voice?_ she sounded almost hurt. Tobirama resisted rolling his eyes at the deity but, considering the resulting whine, he couldn’t shut the exasperation from his very being.

“It is rather uncomfortable to talk with someone without being able to put a face to them.”

_Well, that I can solve._

A flash of light forced Tobirama to shield his eyes and there was a strange pull in his soul that left him feel oddly empty afterwards. When it faded to a more tolerable level, he let his arms fall and took in the new figure in the room. She was short, head barely coming up to Tobirama’s ribs—a child, he realised belatedly. Her colouring was a mirror image of his with long white tresses hitting the back of her knees and red eyes just a tad brighter than the sharingan. Her skin was decorated with just one red mark just below her collarbone; the same one that was drawn on Tobirama’s back. Just like her eyes, it was glowing slightly.

Despite all of this, there was one thing that stood out to him the most.

“I know you,” he said, eyes widening. The little girl—Amaterasu—grinned, her former bad mood dissipating instantly.

_You remember!_ she chirped, doing a little dance. Long strips of fabric swished a tad too slow after her movements, creating a visual of them floating.

How could he not? The feelings of anger, hate, desperation, grief; all concentrated on the three men that had torn his world into pieces. They still plagued him in the dead of the night when he couldn’t find rest, often after their clashes with rival clans—and the Uchiha in particular, with the many close calls.

“You were there when Itama died.”

He could remember like it was yesterday, holding his little brother as he took his last breaths and slowly choked on his blood even as Tobirama tried to heal him with the little power he had in the field; he had never been as jealous of Hashirama as in that moment. He remembered promising that he would be alright, that he was there, that soon, soon—

Amaterasu nodded, stilling in her place. _Yes_, she said simply.

“Why?” he asked, his voice rising. “Why didn’t you heal him? You are a _god_, aren’t you?!” He spat the word out like it was poison.

The deity watched him, inspecting, before inclining her head. There was a regal tilt to it but in a way that was all natural and not the arrogant kind of those self-important merchants. _I am_, she said.

“Then why?!”

_Because that is not my gift._ She swanned closer to him, as if fascinated with the quick bout of temper he was known for but that he rarely let outsiders see. She grinned, too sharp to be human despite her appearance._ I am the goddess of the sun and fire. I am the joy you find in life and the one you turn to when the night is darkest. I am the passion you long for and the obsession you distrust; hope and despair are just different sides of a coin. I am the god adored with the life that I bring with me and cursed when I take my blessings with me as I go._

She stood even with him, having grown in height and age with each step she took. She lifted her hand and traced the lines on his cheeks and his chin, just like she had all those years ago.

_Three lines for three men_, she said softly. _I sat with you until your brother departed and escorted him to where he belonged in the world of the night; I could not touch him for he was already past my realm. Yet I stayed and listened when you burned brighter than anything I had seen in years._ She straightened her back and her hand fell.

“I looked for them.” Tobirama blinked the burn away from his eyes. “I could never find them.”

_They were already gone the night you buried your brother._

“Why me?”

Amaterasu shrugged delicately. _You interested me_, she said, as if it was just that simple—as if it was a mere game. _You saw me in my rays when rarely anyone does these days. And I decided to make good of that promise you made at my setting self. I am a goddess, Senju Tobirama. It is in my nature to be both kind and cruel at the same time. I gave you what you sought for and marked you for the same reason._

_“I swear I will end whoever and whatever killed my brothers!”_

Tobirama’s words echoed back at him from years past. He blinked, wrongfooted.

“Did you know this day would come?”

She shrugged. _Not even the gods know the future_. She twirled around, the hems of her skirt floating just a moment behind her, and she walked towards his bookshelf, shrinking with each step. _But where there are signs, there can be a reading. You were wonderfully placed in the midst of the conflict… and I knew my people. They would call on me, sooner or later._

Not a game then; a gamble.

“So why not them?”

She paused in her step for a fraction of a second and it was over so soon Tobirama wondered if it ever even happened. She glowed, body growing translucent, and started to fade from the world, at the same pace as Tobirama could feel Touka get ever closer. When she was almost gone from the physical realm, her voice carried to his ears like a secret shared.

_They can no longer hear me._

When his cousin walked in, she found him staring at the spot where he had last seen Amaterasu. The little corner of his soul which had grown cold after she appeared before him simmered softly, whispering a plea that only he could hear.

Tobirama accepted the tea and blew the steam. He took a sip. Touka started telling him about the fight she had witnessed and found funny for a reason or another. Tobirama nodded and listened, made noises on all the right places, and planned.

He had a message to write and another promise to keep.


	5. Madara

It was already dark when Madara evaded his clanmates and sneaked through the patrols. Izuna was managing the elders after Madara’s temper broke the back of a chair and he stormed off. Later he would realise that it gave him the perfect cover of not being seen for the rest of the day but, in that moment, he had just wanted to wring their necks. A few of them had gotten eager with their demands, both in timing and in value, and a few more petulantly wished for the talks to fail before they started. A couple of them mixed, causing Madara’s outburst to… leave physical evidence.

Madara knew that getting past the old grudges would take time. He wasn’t one to forget the hard-fought battles and his battered clanmates either. But the dead were dead and even if they _did_ rejoice seeing their loved ones return to them covered in Senju blood in the Pure Lands, Madara wasn’t about to let that happen. He was the clan head; it was his duty to see to his people, his _living_ people. To him, the dead had no say in the affairs of those they left behind.

And if that road managed to let his only living brother left stay alive and by his side? Madara would do a lot worse than force the peace through. He briefly entertained the thought if the Uchiha had gotten the upper hand, if he might have just forgone the childish dreams Hashirama and he planned for and destroyed—

The branch underneath his feet creaked when he landed on it but didn’t snap as he leapt for another.

It didn’t matter, Madara thought, but the idea festered inside him. If any of the Senju had managed to take Izuna out, if the Uchiha had won the war, it was entirely possible that Madara would just have watched the Senju burn. He wasn’t proud of it, but he was a shinobi. The survival of _his_ people came first. On top of that, he was an Uchiha; they were people passionate to a fault and Madara was self-aware enough to know that. It was for this reason he knew that the battle against the old prejudices would be tough but he had faith that, as most of his clan had agreed on, survival of their loved ones was more important than the pain they felt for those that had passed.

And now that survival depended on the Senju. There was a lot at stake. If he didn’t want to lose face and the faith his clan had in him, he couldn’t let any weakness show, couldn’t give any of the Senju ground to stomp on his clan. They especially couldn’t know about the current state of the Uchiha affairs, not until the peace talks were too deep to pull out of. Their grain could last them until that happened and then, _then_ he would add the demand on the list. Not sharing resources between allies was frowned upon when asked.

No one would take advantage of the Uchiha under his watch.

Which is why he needed to talk to Tobirama, the one with the most power to bring Madara’s whole clan to their knees.

The shadows ran with him and he spread his senses. His range may not be as developed as the Senju’s he was running to meet but it was certainly greater than most of his peers. That said, he hoped the Senju would know that none of his people were following him and that he could rest easy. He flared his chakra just a little to let Tobirama know he was approaching. The moment the waterfall Tobirama had mentioned in his letter arrived in his range he almost sagged with relief.

He was there. Tobirama. The little flare he got in return eased his mind. Madara picked up his pace, following the chakra with the cool tint that had become familiar to him after its constant conflict with the crackling heat of Izuna’s. The moon lit his way, giving silvery sheen to the trunks, leaves barely clinging on. Many a winter the leaves stayed evergreen; this year, the surprise cold had almost taken them with it.

Madara kicked off once more and then landed on his feet by the shore. His gaze immediately focused on the figure standing on the calm mirror of the lake’s surface. Madara absently registered his surroundings, searching for threats and escape routes, categorising them, as he took in the Senju who was half-turned his way.

Behind Tobirama the waterfall roared but the distance kept the sound muted enough not to disguise the whispers the wind tickled the trees with. However, it was barely a blip on Madara’s radar when the moonlight shone on Tobirama, lighting up his hair into something more silver than white and the colouring the red on his cheeks and eyes darker than the depths of the lake he stood over. The sight of him reminded Madara of the paintings his clan kept in their shrine, describing Amaterasu and her Blessed both.

Yet, had Amaterasu not, very clearly at that, called Tobirama one of her own, Madara would have guessed that he belonged to Tsukuyomi instead. It seemed more fitting, somehow.

“Uchiha,” Tobirama greeted him, voice as cool as his chakra. He didn’t move from his position, only turned so that he faced Madara completely instead of just halfway.

“Senju,” Madara replied. He noted the absence of Tobirama’s favourite sword but there were kunai tied to his person. Madara himself had left his gunbai back in the compound but, just like the Senju, he wasn’t completely unarmed. Because he didn’t want Tobirama to leave now that he had gotten him here, he added, “Thank you for meeting me.”

“Hashirama is letting his feelings get over his sense.” Tobirama’s tone held a vast amount of blunt honesty. His arms were held loose against his sides but Madara knew that deceptively relaxed stance; one wrong move and a kunai would be flying through the air faster than one could blink. “If we are going to see the ceasefire go where he so wishes, he’ll need to get over it.”

Madara took the words in. “Is that the only reason why you offered this rather… clandestine meeting?”

Tobirama didn’t even twitch. “What did you want with me?” he asked instead of answering. Madara considered pressing the issue for a moment. He had to admit he was curious as he hadn’t thought Tobirama would have moved without his brother’s permission; not that he couldn’t but that he wouldn’t, if there was one trait Madara grudgingly admired in him, it was his loyalty.

“Is she here?” Madara asked.

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

Madara’s eyes narrowed and he growled, “Do you take me for a fool?”

There was a hint of a smirk there that didn’t show on his face when Tobirama replied, “I do not have to when you do that for yourself so well.”

And this, here, was the reason for the ‘grudgingly’. Madara’s hands clenched and he took a hissing breath between his teeth. Tobirama turned his head away slightly, scowl plastered over his face.

“Amaterasu insisted I meet with you,” he admitted. Madara eyed him, looking for signs that Tobirama was pulling his leg, but the displeased look was enough to convince him that Tobirama was being truthful. If it weren’t for them, for Hashirama and Amaterasu, he would have refused to be here.

On that note, if it weren’t for them, they wouldn’t have needed to be here anyway.

“I wanted to speak with her too.” Madara shifted on his legs. Tobirama hadn’t moved from his position on the lake; he wondered if that was because he didn’t see reason to come closer or to give him advantage in case Madara wanted to take things to another level. “I don’t see why she would answer now when she hadn’t in decades… or even a century.” Because one child born and dying before she hit double digits wasn’t a blessing… it was a sign. Of what, Madara didn’t know, but he doubted it was anything good.

Tobirama’s scowl deepened and his glare snapped to somewhere around Madara’s chin. “_You_ called for her,” he spat out. “You and your accursed clan, you _forced_ this on me.” The water under his feet began rippling as Madara sensed Tobirama’s control on his chakra loosen enough for it to swirl with the depths below.

Madara raised his hands in the universal sign of peace though he kept them close to his person. Loyal to Hashirama or not, Tobirama was dangerous on a whole another level. While he was confident that he would win if it ever came to a fight between them, he didn’t want to test a suiton master on top of a large body of water and see the destruction he could cause.

Knowing that honesty was the only way to go, Madara confessed, “I didn’t think she would answer.”

That gave Tobirama a pause. Though his expression didn’t let up, at least the stir of his chakra didn’t hasten. “You didn’t think she would answer,” he repeated flatly. Then his voice rose with temper Madara hadn’t seen even in the heat of a battle. “Then why on _earth_ did you do it?!”

Madara’s own tenuous grip on his emotions snapped and he yelled back, “Because I had _no other choice_!”

“You always have a choice!” Tobirama argued. Madara let out a bitter bark of a laugh.

“No,” he told him humourlessly. “You don’t.” He rolled his shoulders and heard the grind caused by years of tension. He held up his arm, asking for silence. Tobirama crossed his arms, impatient. “What is your clan’s stance on peace?”

Tobirama eyed him, wary of the subject change, but answered regardless. “They’ve had years with Hashirama. While there is some dissent in the ranks, they trust him to protect them in case of a betrayal.”

Something about that sounded off to Madara but he couldn’t pinpoint what. “The Uchiha hasn’t had that,” he said bluntly. “My father and his father before him and so on, they have been focused on destroying our enemies longer than our memories reach. _Your_ people have been that thorn for even longer. If it wasn’t—” and this Madara didn’t like to admit, but he forced the words out regardless, “—for your brother, I have no doubt we would be tearing each other into pieces now as well.”

There was a flash of understanding before the red eyes shifted to stare at the distant waterfall. “Because Hashirama extended his hand.”

“Because he gave me hope I wasn’t alone with wishing for something more than bloodshed.”

“You said ‘I’.” The wind picked up and blew on them. Madara had no idea how the Senju wasn’t cold standing there without any coverage; his teeth almost started to clatter even with the trees withholding most of the breeze. “Does you clan still disagree?”

“Not… exactly.” Another thing hard to admit to a former enemy; that his clan, his family, wasn’t as united at it first seemed. He’d sacrifice it this once, his vow, placing his faith in the goddess his clan so loved. “Amaterasu gave those tired of war advantage over the warmongers. We are forming out demands as we speak.”

“I appreciate that you didn’t bring any of them with you.”

Madara decided to magnanimously ignore the dry quip by throwing out an accusation of his own. “Hashirama doesn’t know you are here, does he?”

It hit home. Something tightened around Tobirama’s eyes. “He doesn’t,” he answered briefly. Madara eyed him.

“Why?”

“What did you want to ask from your goddess?” Tobirama snapped. He finally tilted his head back towards Madara. “You said you had questions.”

“Ah.” Hashirama had clearly done something Tobirama didn’t approve of nor wanted to share with them. Fine then, he’d ask him himself when they met. He returned to his earlier question, the one that had been left unanswered: “Why now?”

Tobirama was quiet for a moment. The frown on his face was deep and his gaze distant as it trailed Madara’s chin. “She… says that, prior to you, no one wanted to listen to her.”

That caused Madara to scowl too. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Tobirama shrugged of all things, giving him no straight answer. Perhaps he had none himself or the Uchiha patron deity wasn’t feeling generous. For the first time in his life Madara cursed for never being interested in the old texts; the only things he knew were what his mother had told them as a child and the elders had dug up before the accursed ritual.

Still, their clan overall couldn’t be called anything but devout. They offered for her delicacies and asked for her blessings, even after not having heard from her in these past long years. Even Izuna, while more of a mind with Madara than the regular Uchiha, prayed to her before difficult battles.

And now she dared to say no one _but_ Madara wanted to listen to her?

“I don’t understand,” he admitted eventually. “Why me?”

“I asked that very question myself,” came Tobirama’s dry answer. The strangeness of them agreeing on something made Madara’s lips twitch.

“I suppose she didn’t offer you a good answer?”

“She gave me _an_ answer,” Tobirama said. “I wouldn’t call it a good one.” Then he added, quieter this time, “Shut up. I didn’t ask you.”

“She’s present then?”

“More than I wish for her to be.” The sigh was deep, bordering exhaustion. “She’s made home inside my soul.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Madara blurted out before he could stop himself. Tobirama blinked, taken aback, and Madara hurried to explain, tripping over his words. “I meant sheltering all that divinity, mortals aren’t supposed to be able to withstand it. How are you still standing?”

“I wondered the same.” Tobirama lifted his hand, curling some of those white strands glowing under the light around his finger. “She burned herself a place inside me, gave a piece of herself to tie to me. I am not divine in any manner of the word; she just changed my… composition enough to allow her presence.”

There was a lull in the conversation as they both considered the words. Finally, it was broken when Madara asked him, “So, ah. How are you taking in the changes in your… appearance and soul and whatnot?”

Tobirama blinked at him. If Madara didn’t know better, he would have called the expression surprise. “I—you might be the first one to ask me that.”

Madara spluttered. “What?!” he demanded. Tobirama shrugged.

“In comparison to being dead at your clan’s hands, I think the concern over my new colouring was at the bottom of the list.”

Dead?

“Dead? You? How?” Madara couldn’t understand what Tobirama was saying. “The _only_ way for you to die would have been if Izuna got lucky or you were against myself.” As much as he hated it, it was true. None of his clan had been up to the task except for those who went through Tajima’s at times torture of a training… namely him and Izuna. Even then it took years to get familiar enough with the tricky bastard who grew stronger and even trickier with them, only on the other side of the battlefield.

Tobirama cocked his head as if he suddenly understood something. “So _that’s_ why brother insisted on holding onto you and none other.”

Madara frowned. Whatever it was that Tobirama got out of his words, he had no clue. “Elaborate?”

The Senju opened his mouth, hopefully to answer, but he snapped it shut immediately. “I need to go,” he said instead. His stance shifted relaxed to coiled in a fraction of a second. “Hashirama’s coming to check on me.”

“Check—hey!” Madara took a step forward. “I wasn’t through with you yet!” And how was he even going to make his way to the middle of the Senju territory all the way from here in a matter of minutes? Wait, did that mean his sensing range was large enough to _reach the Senju compound_?

Tobirama snagged one of his kunai, a rather decorated one at that, and twirled it in his hands. An indescribable look passed his face before it cleared and the kunai halted, ready to be thrown.

“Two nights after the meeting I’ll meet you here.” Then, as if his sudden movement hadn’t surprised Madara enough, Tobirama raised his eyes to meet Madara’s. Those newly red orbs shone under the pale light.

They were _beautiful_.

“Your clan cannot hear Amaterasu anymore,” Tobirama said. It took a second for Madara to register the words and, when he did, his eyes widened. “She won’t tell me why, but it’s related to why she made such a show out of her reappearance. Look for the answers within your clan and I’ll do the same from outside.”

“What?”

Tobirama actually rolled his eyes at Madara’s stupefied look before he repeated. “Two nights after.”

And then was gone, only small ripples on the lake’s surface evidence that he had ever been there.

***

The moment Madara made it back within the patrolled Uchiha area, Izuna was there to wait for him. He let him look him over and even tolerated the “Kai!” he threw out, as if _anyone_ could hit Madara with a genjutsu that he couldn’t immediately dispel… if someone even managed to catch him off-guard enough to trip him into one, that is.

“Well?” Izuna demanded after he had sufficiently surveyed him from head to toe. “What did he want?”

“It was more what Amaterasu wanted than what he did,” Madara said. They started trekking back towards the compound while Madara kept his senses spread; he didn’t want others to find out about his late-night trip. “The elders?”

“I told them I’d talk with you and that we’d consider their words tomorrow when all are present,” Izuna waved his hand. “Just the usual. You should have seen Eri’s expression when she passed by and Kikyo suggested—never mind. The Senju?”

“He looks like an albino now,” Madara said. The red, almost sharingan red, plagued his mind. “It strangely fits him.”

“I can’t believe you just said that and I am going to forget about it immediately,” Izuna announced. His steps halted and he grabbed Madara’s arm to stop him on his feet too. “Or wait.” Izuna pretended to retch on the nearby bush. When he straightened himself, he combed through the hair he was so vain about. “Much better. Now I can ignore what you just said. But what did he, or Amaterasu, _want_?”

Madara rolled his eyes at his display—Izuna had always had a flair for the dramatics—but proceeded to cover the meeting. Izuna frowned, fingers drumming the arms he had crossed in his thoughts.

“Dead. He thinks we would have killed him.”

Madara’s brows rose. “I’d have thought the idea of not hearing our goddess would’ve gotten your attention.”

“That’s something we can look into when we get to the archives,” Izuna easily dismissed. “What I’m curious about is that slip of a word. I agree with you, none but us could possibly have a chance at killing that freak. He always has something up his sleeve. And you said he disappeared from your senses when he left?” Madara nodded. The scowl on Izuna’s face deepened. “That’s not a normal shunshin… What has he created _now_?”

“Izuna.”

Izuna waved him off. “Just wondering, don’t worry. However, it does sound like the Senju know more about this than us. Remember how they acted? The moment that oaf and the demon woman started panicking and pulling him from view, the Senju broke formation.”

Madara thought about the day of the ritual. He hadn’t so much concentrated on the Senju as much as the call for Amaterasu reaching for its climax and how Hashirama had… disappeared…

“See?” Izuna jumped over a particularly large root. His ponytail arched with the movement. “Something’s fishy about that. They know something, something that concerns either Tobirama or us… or both. My money is on the latter.”

“But what could it be?”

Izuna shrugged as the Uchiha compound came into view. He signalled their return to the guards as if they had just taken a midnight stroll.

“Your ‘friend’, for some reason, thinks the Uchiha would have killed his brother. Now, if this was just an ordinary battle, of course we would’ve done our best. I know _I_ did. But the fact that they acted that way even during the ritual…”

His brother’s words hit Madara hard. “Tobirama had to have been connected to us even before that.”

Their conversation was cut short with the guards opening the gates for them and stepping inside the walls that had ears. Madara schooled his expression into its usual frown and Izuna sprung a carefree step into his gait.

“I’m going to meet with him again,” Madara murmured quietly so the wind only carried his words to Izuna. He had already made his decision on his way home but Izuna’s musings had only cemented it. Neither his brother’s pace nor the smile he had plastered on his face faltered. When he spoke without moving his lips, Madara recognised the tone that always preceded a ploy of his.

“Yes, you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep... definitely going to be slow enough burn before they catch on. LOL.


	6. Tobirama

“Sensei! Sensei!”

Tobirama halted in his step and turned around, the hem of his cloak catching in the wind. He watched as two messy brown heads headed towards him, mud staining their knees and cheeks but did nothing to hide their innocent joy that only children had left in this world. They skittled to a stop before him, the shorter and younger of them panting in exertion.

“Tobirama-sensei!” Akane chirped, bouncing in her step. “You are here!”

Tobirama inclined his head. He dropped to his haunches so he was more or less on an even ground with them. “Indeed I am. Do you have a need of me?”

“Yes!” the girl said while her friend shook his head, saying, “No.” Akane immediately scowled and shoved the boy who ended up stumbling to the ground with a startled groan.

“_We_,” Akane stressed, pouting, “were wondering why you were staying here today when Hashirama-sama and Touka-san left. You always go out whenever both of them do!”

“Akane!” Hisao hissed, scrambling up. “Mom said—!”

“I don’t care about your mom, my dad—!”

“You—!”

“Children.”

The squabbling kids immediately froze and stood in attention. Tobirama stared at them evenly, refusing to let his twitching lips form anything else but a straight line. “Today is the negotiation day,” he said. “A day when the Senju and the Uchiha meet and discuss whether peace between our kin is possible. My brother and cousin left me to handle the things here, in case things turn sour.”

That was the official explanation anyway. Hashirama kept apologising anytime he saw him so Tobirama had taken to avoiding him these past couple of days. With how bright his chakra was even when despondent, it wasn’t particularly a hard task. He did allow Touka to follow him at times but even she thought Hashirama was going overboard, considering his skill in battle. Thus, she left him alone whenever Hashirama was busy and had no chance to find out about their little scheme. It allowed Tobirama to have some semblance of freedom.

It came with a price though. The Senju who had lived most of their life under Butsuma’s rule still saw Tobirama as an omen that could tip the scales either in the Senju’s favour or the Uchiha’s, depending on the interpretation. Not for the first time Tobirama cursed Amaterasu for placing the three lines over his face, a place so visible they couldn’t be hidden; perhaps then the priest their own had called for after seeing her touch on him wouldn’t have given his ominous prophesy. Perhaps—

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Second-guessing did nothing but bring grief. If he had been quicker, perhaps Itama hadn’t died; if Kawarama hadn’t demanded a chance to prove himself beyond his prowess in training, perhaps he would have been alive today. Hadn’t he learned not to dwell, to improve the present so that the past wouldn’t be repeated and Hashirama could continue his way towards the future he saw and Tobirama couldn’t? It was their strength, the way they complemented each other. If either of them died, it would devastate the one left behind.

He understood Hashirama, he really did.

He still didn’t have to like it.

“Do you think they will?” Hisao asked, frowning slightly. He had always been a solemn child, reminiscent of Tobirama himself at that age. “I don’t want my brother to fight. It was his first battle last time and my mom and I…” he trailed off and Tobirama remembered how Hisao and Hideki’s eldest brother had disappeared on a mission three years ago, never to be seen or heard again.

“Dummy!” Akane exclaimed. “With Touka-san at his side, Hideki—”

“Akane.” The girl shut up and turned red hearing his disapproval. “What have I told you about calling others names?”

“That it’s not polite,” she grumbled. “But dad calls the Uchiha names all the time and sometimes he even calls Hash—I mean—”

Knowing Senju Haruto and his burning hatred for the Uchiha for killing his parents as a child, Tobirama wasn’t surprised.

“Your comrades will have differing ideas from time to time,” Tobirama said. “It does not mean they are stupid so you shouldn’t call your friends that. Furthermore, if the negotiations are successful, we will be moving onto a more peaceful era between the Senju and the Uchiha. We have killed many of them just as they have killed many of us. It will not be easy, letting go of the past, but it may be necessary.”

He turned to Hisao. “I don’t want to see either of you cut down in front of me if I can. You know how many Uchiha I have downed with my blade and who I have lost to them. I am still willing to see where this might lead us, now that there is a chance the past will not be repeated.”

Akane and Hisao looked at each other. Akane coughed, shifting on her feet. “My father… he also said that, well…”

Tobirama waited. Akane bit her lip and squirmed before blurting out, “He said you are as much an ally of the Uchiha as Hashirama-sama wishes _he_ was!”

Tobirama made a mental note keep an eye on Haruto. “Is it bad to wish for a world where we did not have to live in fear of death?” Tobirama asked instead of answering the accusation head on. “My brother doesn’t want to lose me nor does Hisao want to lose Hideki. I doubt you want to see you father dead either.” Akane shook her head violently. “The situation now is very fragile and we need to be careful. My brother may be an idealist but he’s a good leader who thinks of his kin first no matter how much it may look different to some. His approach is different from the previous clan head who sought peace through destruction. Hashirama believes in making certain children such as you don’t have to enter the battlefield at the age of six whether they are Senju or not.”

Alarmed, Akane and Hisao exchanged another look. Nine and eight respectively, neither clearly found the possibility appealing that they might have been fighting for two to three years already. Tobirama nodded.

“My brother’s first command was to remove children from the battle, the way the Uchiha had done two seasons before when their new clan head stepped into power. I had already pitched for it but unfortunately my father did not agree. It only strengthened us, given that we did not have to worry over you and we could train you longer and make sure you survive your first stint on the field. Now we are trying to make certain you don’t have to do that either. Do you think you could have survived against adults of my strength or Touka’s prowess two years ago?”

Akane hesitated but Hisao readily shook his head. “I can’t even trip you in practice,” he said. Tobirama nodded.

“Hashirama is ensuring your and your family’s safety first. He is not our enemy and neither are the Uchiha.” For now. “If we manage to find the middle ground, that would be optimal. We lose nothing by trying.”

Hashirama would cry on him if he heard this, Tobirama thought, quietly amused. While he did not trust the Uchiha as a whole—he doubted they trusted the Senju either—he was rather certain Madara hadn’t been lying that night. There had been no tells of such and he had only attempted to reign his temper in though not his words; his stilted, blurted out words saw to that. They really were cut from a similar tree, Madara and Hashirama. They were honest in a way that forced their little brothers to make up for it.

While the reason he had ultimately relented to meet him might have been Amaterasu, Tobirama had always been quietly curious about the friend Hashirama saw in Madara. Had Madara’s battlefield persona been the only side of him, Tobirama would have ditched the meeting before it even began; yet, there had been signs that there was more to him than that: a sign of intellect beyond battle strategies, loyalty towards his people that wasn’t limited to killing for them, and a hint of curious hope, desperation, for peace. Yes, he could see why Hashirama had been attracted to Madara as a friend…

Even beyond making sure that the Uchiha heir would not cut Tobirama down as a personal service to Hashirama.

He let the kids process this. Hisao was nodding along soon after but Akane still looked a bit sceptical. No matter; knowing her, she only needed to sleep on it before she came to the decision on her own.

“Now, is there anything else you two needed?”

Hisao raised his hand. “If you are not busy, could you show me that earth jutsu again? The one that swallows your enemy? I tried it myself but I only managed to turn our garden. Mom didn’t like it.”

Tobirama let himself smile and nodded. “Of course. How about you go gather your friends and all come around to the training ground two? We could have a training session before dinner.”

Akane immediately brightened. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “And I want to see that water dragon again! It was so cool!”

“If you work hard,” Tobirama said. The children grinned widely before Hisao raised his hand again.

“Yes?”

“One last question.”

“Mmm?”

The kids glanced at each other and chorused, “Why is your hair white?”

Considering this was only their last question and not the first, Tobirama thought he had trained them well. It also relieved him, knowing that he hadn’t changed in the eyes of his students and the younger generation.

It made the suspicious looks of Butsuma’s generation far easier to endure.

***

_You really do love children_, Amaterasu commented when Tobirama was walking home from the impromptu training session. He hummed, choosing not to answer in the middle of the street. He could feel her pout regardless.

_You are stern but you also listen to them. No wonder they follow you like little ducklings._

He ducked into a side alley that took him closer to his compound. He could have just used hiraishin but the sun was out for once so he wanted to soak in it while he could. It was still warm enough but he knew that it could grow cold any day now.

“Do you always have to talk when there are people around?” he whispered and then stepped back into another busy street. The Senju compound wasn’t large per se but everything was gathered around two circling streets; almost as if they were buffers in case the walls broke down. The clan head’s house was, naturally, in the middle of the circles.

_I left you alone with your ducklings, now didn’t I?_ Amaterasu said. _I was considerate and kind, just admit it._

“You don’t know what either of those words mean.” A Senju whose name he didn’t know, probably a distant cousin if that, gave him an odd look but he ignored it. He had become very good at tuning out them since Itama’s…

The corners of his mouth twisted downwards and for the rest of his brisk walk no one spoke to him. When he arrived inside his house and pulled his cloak off, however, Amaterasu spoke again.

_I _am_ sorry about that_, she said. She even sounded regretful which was a first. He scowled, wary.

“About what?”

_That you no longer share their colouring. _Tobirama paused momentarily, startled at the pang her words wrought and what he had attempted to ignore.

“It’s fine.”

Except it wasn’t. He would never again share the same shade of hair that Kawarama had nor the eyes he had stared into through a mirror to catch even a momentary glimpse of Itama. The delicate lines of his brows were still his mother’s though they no longer shared the colouring and he could see his father in the lines of his back but his little brothers…

Now they only lived in his memory.

_No, it is not,_ Amaterasu stated. A small flash of light he could see from the corner of his eyes and a tug inside him later the goddess once again stood next to him, yet again in the form of the child he had seen instead of the regal noble woman he had gotten a glimpse of. _I am thankful for your sacrifice though._

“To be a shinobi is to sacrifice,” Tobirama recited. He walked towards the kitchen; he had barely managed to keep breakfast down earlier. He needed to eat, to conserve his strength. Spreading his senses, he felt familiar presences of chakra coming their way and others more or less familiar moving away. The meeting must have ended. He started the fire, placing a pot filled with water over it.

Amaterasu sighed. She jumped on the table, hovering with her legs crossed just a little over it.

_Sometimes I think you and the rest of the humans have forgotten what living is supposed to be like. _She leaned into her arms, staring as Tobirama started to chop the fresh vegetables they only had at this time of a year because of Hashirama’s manipulation of the mokuton and the sealing Tobirama had learned from the Uzumaki.

“And what is it supposed to be, oh wise one?” he threw the diced greens into the pot, starting to cook them on the flame. He’d need to cut some more, he thought, pulling a couple more vegetables from the nearby scroll. “You, who has no such worry as one of us.”

_I may not share your lifespan, but I share your pain_. She kicked her feet forward, dangling them from the edge. _I cannot help you when you are not willing to listen._

Sharp as the knife he held, Tobirama spun around with narrowed eyes. “Is that why you claimed only Madara was, willing that is? Because he wanted—wants—peace?”

By the grimace that settled on Amaterasu’s face he knew he was right. That also meant that— “You did not want us to know.” He narrowed his eyes, correcting himself, “No, that is not quite true, is it? You didn’t want us to know _yet_. This is why you spoke riddles last night.”

Amaterasu sighed. _It’s not about the end although the results matter_, she explained, her short-lived displeasure fading away. There was something soft, almost fragile, about her now. _But the journey._

“What do you mean?”

She twirled her lock, glowing white locks around her finger. _Say, if I gave you an answer to any of your questions… would you be satisfied with just that?_

“Anything?” Tobirama asked, intrigued. “Anything at all?”

_Yes._ Amaterasu gave him a look that seemed to see straight through him. _Even how to make Edo Tensei work. Would you accept it at face value?_

Tobirama froze. He gripped at the handle of his knife, hard enough to feel the wood crack underneath his grip. Unexpected desire burst through him, consumed him. Yes, he wanted to know; he wanted that. More than anything. More than—

He halted, his mind catching up to his wildly beating heart. He set the knife down, closed his eyes for a brief second, before opening them with new-found resolve.

“No,” he said quietly. “Not without knowing the hows and whys.”

Because he if anyone knew the consequences of working on an unknown entity without the necessary information and the risks it involved.

He threw the rest of the dices greens into the pot and stirred.

_I could give you the answer to mysteries you couldn’t even imagine. While I am not omnipotent nor omniscient, I am a god. I am the world around you in many ways you cannot grasp and my eyes are everywhere the sunlight caresses. But I cannot see the end nor can I live for you. I only share your pain a thousand-fold for I am impotent and restricted in my power more so than you are._

She hopped down and came to stand next to Tobirama. Her clothes, again, followed just a little slower after her, creating the effect of the hems floating. He had to look down to meet the dark glitter than was her eyes.

_Tobirama._

His eyes widened when she addressed him directly. She tilted her head.

_When have you last felt free?_

He stared back. With how solemn she was, he couldn’t give her a half-assed answer; not that it was like him anyway. He considered the question, thinking back to when he was a child, a man wearing a child’s skin, the person he was now. When all of his immediate family had been alive, when only Hashirama was left. When he didn’t have his marks and when he did. When he stood on the battlefield and when he met their former enemy off of it. Even when he was experimenting or teaching the next generation, he was always—

“I don’t know what that means,” he confessed after what felt like hours had passed. Amaterasu nodded as if she had already known his answer.

_Then you understand._

But did he? Tobirama wasn’t his brother; he wasn’t one to dream, to see past the lines of reality. If he asked Hashirama, he would certainly say that to be free would mean to have peace. But did those two really equal one another? He didn’t know. Lately Tobirama felt like the world was shifting into something he could no longer comprehend. He sighed, resuming his cooking. It was almost time to add the noodles. The meat that would go best with the dish would be—

“Why a child?” he asked, changing the subject. The little girl the goddess presented herself as grinned.

_Who are the most loved and most joyful of them all?_ she returned his question.

He couldn’t help himself. He snorted. The little sound quickly grew into a quiet laugh. “And you consider yourself the ‘most loved’?”

Amaterasu pouted, playing up the character by sticking her lower lip out further than necessary. It created a ridiculous image and Tobirama had to cough to cover another laugh. _Why, _she said_. Don’t you think I am lovable?_

“As a pest, certainly.”

_Aww, don’t be mean! _Amaterasu twirled around, her hems floating after her._ I am the sun, everyone loves me, can’t live without me. And you know what that means?_

“You’ll tell me anyway.”

_Snark snark,_ she said and then pointed at him. The pot bubbled and Tobirama took it off the flame. _It means that if the one best loved chose someone, they’d be the beloved of them all. And I chose you._ Her grin turned mischievous and it slightly terrified Tobirama. _And you deserve love too._

Protests sprang to life and died on Tobirama’s lips. The door slid open, revealing a very tired-looking Touka.

“Who are you talking to, cousin?” she asked when she entered the room. She looked around, her gaze twice nailing Amaterasu on her spot, but she didn’t seem to be able to see her. Still, Tobirama gestured at her.

“Amaterasu.”

The scowl that took place over the curious look was dark. “I was hoping that was just momentary insanity.”

“You and I both.”

_You are both so rude! _Amaterasu gasped_. Then she grinned. I love it!_

Tobirama yet again couldn’t help it. His brows lifted, judging, and he asked, “You _like_ people being rude to you?”

_You have no idea how refreshing it is, hearing what people really think, _she answered matter-of-factly_. They usually think that just because they use flowery language that they can make us, make _me_, do whatever they want. It doesn’t work like that. It’s the intent, not the words!_

“Nothing and no one can make you do anything,” he grumbled. She grinned at him.

_You are learning!_

Too much for the day, he turned back to Touka who was looking between him and the space Amaterasu still lingered. He gestured at the table.

“Sit down. I made dinner for you and Hashirama. Where is he?”

“Bringing the Uchiha demands to the elders. The meeting went… well,” she said, as if surprised and suspicious of it at the same time. Tobirama placed a cup of water in front of her and she took a grateful sip. “Hashirama insisted on making certain demands met already, such as putting an official stop for child killers. The Uchiha agreed to that easily. When asked about you, though, neither Madara nor Izuna seemed to accept the explanation though they tried to hide it—Izuna better than his brother—even if the rest of the Uchiha seemed to buy it as flimsy as it was. They probably have similar plans in effect as well, just in case Hashirama went back on his word.”

“As if he would, the idiot,” Tobirama scoffed. Touka raised her cup.

“Hear hear!” The cup clanked when she set it back down. “I managed to stop him from making a fool out of himself. Your notes made a big difference. It would’ve been better had you been there; it’d have made more sense to leave me here to watch over the compound.”

Tobirama sighed. “You know Hashirama.”

Touka grimaced. “The mule. It’s unfortunate he inherited that particular trait from Butsuma.”

“At least he’s focusing it on bettering the clan rather than destroying its legacy bit by bit.”

“About that.”

Tobirama tilted his head, indicating he was listening while he was putting finishing touches on their dinner.

“Izuna pulled me aside. He asked me if there was history between you and the Uchiha.” Tobirama could feel her eyes at the back of his head. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“I’ve followed Hashirama’s orders to the letter,” Tobirama said. He took the pot and placed it onto the table. Next, he’d need plates and chopsticks…

“That I have no doubt of.” Touka grew quiet but, after a moment, Tobirama heard her sigh. “Tell me you are at least being careful.”

“I am always careful.”

Touka huffed a laugh. “Liar,” she said fondly. When he glanced at her, he found that her attention had been directed to the last rays of sun hitting his hair. She admitted softly, “I still can’t get used to how white your hair now is.”

“I am still the same person, cousin.”

“I know that,” she said, a bit snappish. “I wish the others saw that too.”

Tobirama kept his face neutral because that was nothing new. “They will always have their opinions.”

“Wrong ones.” Touka drummed her fingers on the table, hawk-like eyes on him. “And how _do_ you feel about that?”

Tobirama set the table in silence, thinking on her words and how to answer them. Madara’s words played in his head again. After returning home, just in time for Hashirama not to have suspected a thing, he had stared at his mirror image until his sight had blurred with exhaustion. He remembered thinking, wondering, if he was changed now more than was obvious, the way some seemed to think.

No, he had decided. He was more than just a name or change in appearance. It was actions, not merely what one was called, that decided who the person was and there were many interpretations for words of others. Was he not called both ‘the Senju Demon’ by his enemies for the wit he brought on the field and ‘teacher’ by the clan children who he taught with the same mind? Just adding one more name to the list, whether it was ‘Beloved’ or ‘freak’ didn’t matter. No matter how many rumours there were of him being the Senju’s doom did not make him one if he did not want to be. He hadn’t let others’ opinions affect himself before, so why should he now?

Even if his hair now shone white in the sun or if he had eyes red as blood or if there were lines that curled over his heart, he was still Senju Tobirama. If he let something like this change him, he would fall and never rise up to the surface again. So what if one priest declared his fate tied with the Uchiha? With how Amaterasu had marked him on the day Itama died and with how things were progressing, it was even somewhat true. But it was him who would decide what to do with it; not the Senju nor the Uchiha, not Hashirama or Madara, not even Amaterasu.

Him.

He didn’t see the little smile that sprang on Amaterasu’s face, only felt the little spot she had claimed for herself tingle with warmth when she dissipated from the physical world. He only stood there, listening to Touka’s account on the negotiations after she had decided he wouldn’t answer her question and waiting for the joyfully pulsing chakra of his brother come nearer with every step.

Is this what Amaterasu was talking about? he wondered quietly to himself, seeing the door to their kitchen slam open and Hashirama burst in with teary eyes and loud sobs, chakra screaming his hopeful happiness. He grabbed the closest person, who happened to be Touka, into a bear hug and bawled on her, babbling nonsensically. Touka put up a valiant fight but Tobirama knew from experience that Hashirama’s grip was stronger than iron; his hiraishin was developed only partly to defeat the sharingan.

Tobirama let a small smile play on his lips as he watched the chaotic scene before him, not even mentioning how their dinner was cooling before them.

Perhaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some build-up and insight on the Senju front ;) (Mutual curiosity established!)


	7. Madara

“—And, lastly, they want reassurance that peace truly is the will of Amaterasu,” Hikaku ended and set down the scroll with the elders’ answering demands to the Senju’s. Madara stared at it, wanting to set it aflame.

“At least they finally acknowledged that it might actually be Amaterasu and not a well-placed genjutsu,” Izuna commented. “As if the Senju had anything like that in their arsenal, to fool an _Uchiha_. Kentaro is a moron.” He rolled the scroll open, squinting at the writing. He had an eye for small details that Madara had never been able to polish into perfection as he had. “It does pose a problem though if we can’t get the oaf to bring the—his brother at the table.”

“He _is_ the second-in-command,” Hikaku pointed out. “And the second strongest. Now that we have established that we are not a threat, Senju-sama should have no more objections to his presence.”

Madara and Izuna exchanged a look. Hikaku frowned.

“You don’t agree.”

“You didn’t see Hashirama after the ritual,” Madara said. It was even somewhat a truth, with how Hikaku had been guarding the children in case things went wrong. “If the same had happened to Izuna due to the Senju’s actions, do you think I’d let him anywhere _near_ them?”

“I think that Izuna-sama would not give you a choice on the matter.”

Izuna clapped Hikaku’s shoulder, cackling. “A good one. Brother, you’ve never been able to force me to do anything; why do you think this would’ve been any different?”

“Because I would’ve tied you to your bed until you couldn’t even lift a finger.” Madara leaned back on his chair, cracking his shoulders. He tossed another scroll to their little cousin. “That’s all, Hikaku. Take the new guard roster to the gates and go see about your promised. Maybe she can turn your frown upside down.”

“You are not one to speak, Madara-sama.” Before Madara could do more than splutter, Hikaku bowed and made his way out. Izuna snickered even as Madara pointed at him.

“You’ve been bad influence on him,” he accused. “He was perfectly fine before.”

“I like the sass,” Izuna protested in between his chortles. “It’s even better with his deadpan delivery!”

“If he ends up as your copy, I’m ending you _and_ replacing you with the better model.”

“You wouldn’t!”

Madara crossed his arms. “Try me.”

Izuna snapped the scroll shut with a single flick of his wrist and tossed the list to Madara. He let it hit the table with a soft thwack. “Half of their demands are pure bull,” he said, forgoing mock outrage in favour of business. “It’s just the same with different phrasing, even the ones we agreed to take out like the monopoly on weaponry when we asked the Senju to drop the clause on agricultural preferentialism. Do they think the Senju are stupid? Or, as a matter of fact, we?”

“You weren’t into peace either,” Madara pointed out. He refused to open what he knew would make him want to rip his hair out. He looked out the window, watching two children run away from the third.

“I’m not into it now either,” Izuna said. He leaned on his other leg and due to his new stance his hip started to stick out. “But I have eyes and I know a lesser of two evils when I see it.”

“You just like the mystery.” Madara drifted back to his little brother to see Izuna shrug.

“Not denying it. If it really _is_ Amaterasu…” As if, at this point, there was any question, the lightshow aside. “Well. That _does_ change things. Which is what we need verified as soon as possible.” Izuna tapped his chin in thought and gathered the pile of leftover dishes from their mid-work dinner. “When did you say your next date was again? Wasn’t it two days after, so tonight?”

Madara spluttered. “It’s not a date!”

“Could have fooled me.” When Madara continued his indignant screeching, Izuna waved him off and sauntered towards the door. “You are better off not falling for him anyway, that would only complicate things unnecessarily.” He swirled around, ponytail smacking his arm as he did. He pointed the chopsticks at Madara in an imitation of a sword. “Besides, he’s _my_ rival, not yours!”

Izuna’s stern expression broke into a smirk, the little son of a kitsune, and he walked through the door with merely a wiggle of his fingers. Madara groaned and his forehead made a loud thunk as it hit the desk.

Sometimes he regretted little brothers did not have a return policy.

No, you don’t, Izuna’s voice mocked him. Madara huffed and pushed himself up again.

No, he didn’t, he admitted, and the memory of that bright laugh filled the otherwise quiet space. Madara took a deep breath, grit his teeth, and grabbed the accursed scroll.

Time to work.

***

With Izuna’s departing words circling in his mind, Madara jumped off the last branch and landed gracefully by the lake. The loud hum of the waterfall was a constant that had greeted him before it had reached his sight. He spread his senses but he couldn’t feel Tobirama anywhere. He glanced at the shining moon, halfway to full. He noted how there were clouds gathering; it wasn’t as clear a night as the ones prior.

They never did have the time to secure a way to tell the other in case they couldn’t meet, he mused and then startled when he caught the trail of his thought. He slapped his cheeks and muffled a groan. This was not going to become habit, he told himself. This was only until they secured a way for Tobirama to attend with the rest of the Senju delegation.

The air didn’t shift but, suddenly, his senses were filled with a flash of cool depths and a crackle of lightning. He startled, badly, and threw a kunai before he even registered the move. The flying blade was snatched from the air, handle caught between two pale fingers.

Tobirama lowered the kunai hovering just a couple of inches from his eyes. The look on the Senju’s face was unimpressed. Madara felt heat gather on his cheeks but he refused to look away.

“What on earth is that technique?!” he demanded. Tobirama’s expression didn’t change when he sent the kunai sailing back at Madara. He snagged it mid-flight, twirled it twice for good measure, and hid it back inside his sleeve in one single move.

“The technique that keeps you safe from Hashirama’s overpowering worry,” Tobirama replied. He moved into the moonlight from where he had been half-hidden behind a tree. He was dressed similarly to the night they met just five days ago, with his fur raised to keep the cold out. Madara himself had taken note, dressing in more layers than previously.

“And here I thought there was no such thing.”

“I was referring to the speed. However, if we get technical, you would be right. That is a battle you would lose regardless.”

“Say what?!” Madara snapped, insulted that he would lose at anything against Hashirama. Then he registered what Tobirama had actually said and blanched. “Wait, no, you can keep that.”

The closer Tobirama walked, the closer his judging brows came with him. The prowl in his step was a quiet one and reminded Madara of the large cats in the mountains.

“Is your clan giving you trouble?” he quickly asked to cover his misstep. Tobirama stopped twenty feet away; little to a shinobi but enough for a fast get-away.

“They are more amenable to an alliance now that the sides managed to come to a tentative agreement on things such as the children’s position during war.” Tobirama kept his stance relaxed, reminiscent of their last meeting, but Madara had seen how quickly that had changed last time; he hadn’t been fooled then and he wouldn’t be now either. “There are those hurt by the feud, however, who will prove most difficult to convince.”

“Better than nothing then,” Madara grumbled. Alliance over complete peace, huh… He checked that question off from Izuna’s long list. “At least the clan in general is hoping for a better outcome.”

“No one wishes to battle during a winter such as the coming one,” Tobirama agreed. “Do you have a plan to convince the disagreeable within your people?”

“Yes. You.”

Tobirama didn’t even bat an eye. “Hashirama is still against me attending.”

Madara dug his heel in the ground, grinding the little rocks deeper into the mixture of soil and sand. “I have yet to hear a good explanation for that. It’s as if he fears we will kill you or something!” See that, Izuna? He can drop hints in mid-conversation too!

“As much as I may have implied last time, that’s exactly what he is afraid of.”

Self-congratulations cut short, Madara didn’t have Tobirama’s talent for keeping his face blank. He gawked. “Izuna was right?!” he inquired, though it was less of a question and more an exclamation. “What the hell did we do to him to distrust the clan that much?!”

“It’s not you personally,” Tobirama said. He paused and then corrected, “Not completely anyway.” He shifted on his feet, the impassive face breaking with the thoughtful look that took over. “He probably knows that you have the best chance at taking me out so he’s hesitant to put me anywhere near you.”

That confirmed it. There was only air between that idiot Senju’s ears he once called a friend… Even if it was true. His thoughts must have shown on his face because Tobirama scoffed at him. “As if I’d give you the opportunity for that anyway.”

“Are you doubting my skills?” Madara snapped.

“No.” But before Madara could puff up in righteous pride, Tobirama continued with a, “You merely don’t have the necessary tools to catch me.”

Madara scowled. “That trick you made when you arrived?”

Tobirama shrugged but the smug smirk that spread on his face told he wasn’t nearly as nonchalant as his stance portrayed. “It is fast enough to beat sharingan.”

“A lie!”

“Is it?”

Madara eyed Tobirama, his easy posture and confident tilt of head. “I don’t believe you.”

The widening of that goddamned infuriating smirk was the only answer he got when Tobirama disappeared from view, his chakra presence suddenly back to where he had appeared earlier. Madara activated his sharingan, feeling the spin as his blood pumped. He stared at where Tobirama stood, waiting for him to move, but he didn’t; there was no motion to indicate an attack.

There wouldn’t be one, Madara realised. Tobirama had just demonstrated his words and, truth to be told, it was enough for Madara to realise he may have spoken the truth. However… Madara raised his hand and made a single come hither gesture; he thought he could see teeth.

Madara spun around, the kunai from before appearing in his hand. He raised it to deflect the one Tobirama sent at him in turn and his eyes widened when suddenly, in place of the sharp blade, there was the Senju. Red glinted, just beneath his gaze so they wouldn’t meet, and their weapons clashed. With a single smooth twist, Tobirama raised his leg and kicked the arm Madara moved to protect his middle. The brunt of it forced him to fall back a step but there was a reason only Hashirama had ever been able to rival him in strength alone. His own answering blow was evaded, close enough that he could feel the sharp inhale tickle the exposed flesh of his arm.

They traded more hits than necessary, dancing with the moon as their only witness. It was… exhilarating. Dare he say almost fun, letting go of the boundaries he had to enforce each time he trained with his kin except for Izuna, yet with none of the years of practice that came with clashing blades against his brother. They had never met on the battlefield before, Tobirama and he. It had always been Hashirama that he met with Izuna taking on Tobirama for as long as he could remember. It had been safe, keeping the strongest players occupied by the other; the few times that either side was missing one of the other main actors had turned out bloodier than usual which is why Madara rarely sent Izuna away for longer missions unless necessarily. He suspected the Senju had made the same executive decision based on their field presence.

It took Tobirama sending his kunai flying far from Madara’s reach and him appear by it for the sudden bout—if they had been back at the compound, Madara might have called it a _spar_—to end. They were both panting lightly, the missing worry over their kin relieving the burden over their shoulders. Tobirama tilted his head without exposing his throat. Madara swallowed, suddenly realising their position; seeing the little cuts on Tobirama’s sleeves and the nicks he himself must bear were phantoms on his skin.

“Hashirama is an idiot,” he said finally, breaking the silence between them. He let his sharingan fade away. “With this in your arsenal, there is no way for him to deny you access to the negotiations.”

“He worries,” Tobirama replied. He stretched, the movement creating ripples on the water he again stood by. Madara narrowed his eyes, taking in the image he created, moon-touched as he was.

“You realised something last time.” There was no pause in the flow of his stretch but Madara knew he had Tobirama’s whole attention. “Something pertaining Hashirama and I.”

Tobirama let his arms fall back down. “Are you sure you want to hear it?” he asked instead of answering. “It may change your idea of him.”

Madara snorted. He stepped on the water, letting his chakra ease his step. “If something does, I’ll be surprised. He hasn’t changed in years.”

The clouds created shadows over the black depths below them.

“He intentionally made himself your target so you wouldn’t attack me,” Tobirama said. Madara’s brows lifted. That was as much as Izuna and he had managed to gather and as much as Tobirama had already confirmed himself in not so many words.

“And?”

Tobirama sighed, shook his head, and seemingly gave up. “And while he knew who you were when he befriended you, he still held on the hope anyway that you would reciprocate even after all these years and the false premise I suspect you had no idea of.”

That…

That did it. Surprise him, that is.

Madara gaped at him, all thoughts of ‘too easy’ dissipating. Tobirama merely shrugged. The little motion even seemed a little sheepish.

“What?!” he snapped. “The idiot _knew_?”

Tobirama crossed his arms. “He did,” he admitted. “I had my suspicions when he didn’t seem too shocked after the river but only our last meeting confirmed it.”

Madara had to concede, he did feel a little betrayed by that. That Hashirama, the oaf who cried over every little thing, was manipulative enough to—

No, that didn’t sound quite right there. Hashirama would only do that if one of his closest ones were—

“For you,” he said, the realisation dawning on him. “He befriended me for you. To, how did you put it, to keep you from being killed by us?” And by taking out the strongest on the field, or with the promise to be, to himself, Hashirama secured Tobirama a partner he could battle against evenly. Yet with this new trick of his, Izuna would be hard-pressed to beat it without having using his mangekyou… and even with that, there was a chance that while he could read the move, he’d be too slow to answer it in kind. Madara himself had found it difficult, having been forced on defensive more than once during their little bout.

Tobirama sighed. He shifted, stance both relaxing and tightening in turn. “I made the decision and I’m living by it,” he said but Madara felt that he wasn’t speaking to him at the moment. “This pertains myself and, more so, him. I can reveal it if I want to and there is merit in him knowing the facts.”

He was slightly startled, however, when Tobirama lifted his gaze enough to stare at Madara’s nose, stubbornly in the danger zone of the sharingan. If Madara activated his and ducked his head just a tiny fraction quicker than he could dodge—

“Swear to me,” Tobirama’s voice carried over the water, “that you will use what you learn only to enforce peace between our clans, alliance if nothing more, and I will tell you why.” The look in his eyes hardened. “However, be truthful with your words for Amaterasu will witness them and act accordingly should you betray them... The part of you still left intact, naturally.”

Madara felt adrenaline kick in and, for a moment, he froze. He had almost forgotten there was a third party watching their every move from somewhere around them, possibly even through Tobirama’s very own eyes. Because he was the Blessed. Yet, regardless of what he would hear, the decision was already made for him; it had been all those years ago when he swore he would keep his last brother alive at any cost to his own.

“I swear on these eyes of mine,” he said. Because he would not make a vow on Izuna’s name, not for anything, and he would rather lose the gift Amaterasu had granted him and his clan than that. Besides, should he break it, it would only be her right. As it would be Tobirama's too, should he actually manage to best Madara.

Tobirama eyed him and Madara had to wonder what he saw before he slowly nodded.

“So mote it be.”

The cool night breeze tickled Madara’s cheek and ruffled his hair. The hairs on his skin rose. It almost felt like the goddess had given him a sign she had listened and accepted his vow.

“A month before you met Hashirama, our youngest brother Itama was killed.” Madara’s eyes widened at the cold tone of Tobirama’s voice. “By three men whom I could identify as Uchiha. Child killers were not banned back then and I was too late to arrive to the scene; I could only sense their chakra leave my range.”

“Did you kill them?” Madara asked. For this, he would not begrudge him. He would have done the same; even with Arima and Akira, he _had_ looked for the Senju who had finished what others had started when he had been old enough to join the war. There had been no sign of them.

To his surprise, Tobirama shook his head. “No. Amaterasu did.”

What.

“What?” Madara’s voice came out flat.

“Yes, I almost didn’t believe it myself if not for the evidence she left behind.” He trailed the markings on his face—three of them, to be exact—and Madara found himself following the motion. “For the men. I could see her in the fading sunlight. How I did that I have no inkling, and she won’t tell me; I’m not sure she knows it either. But I swore revenge and she took it as a promise to help her and marked me with that vow.”

“That’s…” awful, he thought but didn’t voice. Of all the ways he and Izuna had theorised the connection between them, this had not been one of them. Perhaps it should have, considering their past.

‘Gods are unpredictable in their deeds and mortals have scarce a chance to understand them’, his mother had once said. ‘But we love them regardless for the love they give us. Remember that, Madara. When the times are dark and full of terror, praise the sun and she will come.’

“That’s why you had the markings as young as you were,” he said instead. “We thought they were tattoos, perhaps to honour your mother’s clan. Before the obvious, I mean.” Tobirama’s hand fell back to his side.

“If only. Our priest called for another when he saw her touch on me. He said, and I quote, ‘His fate is tied with the Uchiha now. They will kill the him you know and that will be the unravelling of the future you are seeking.’” Tobirama let the words sink in before he continued. “My father took it to mean that the Uchiha needed to be eradicated. He renewed the war efforts and made it more than the border feud we had let it simmer to before.”

“Does your clan know?” Madara asked, narrowing his eyes. “Izuna noted their behaviour during the ritual.”

“They have an inkling,” Tobirama replied, surprisingly calm when the topic concerned himself, as if their opinions were mere facts of life. “They were never officially told… but they are not stupid. Some of his generation saw a connection between Butsuma’s frenzy, higher death rates, and me. Some of those… blame me. It is easier.

“Hashirama, though, took it differently.” A fleeting smile crossed Tobirama’s face when he stared in the direction where the Senju compound must be. “He decided that the war needed to end and the best way would be to make friends. Well, first he decided on the former; the latter only came when he met you and liked you.”

Tobirama turned back to Madara. “Know that he still treasures the time you spent together. He may have known who you were—our father made sure we knew the enemy after things fell apart—and had ulterior motives in the beginning but he truly loves you as his friend. He saw potential in the world you imagined together, one where we could co-exist.

“I did not.”

Cold winds picked up. Madara shivered. The clouds hid the pale light behind them, leaving them at the mercy of the few stars peeking through.

“I hated all of you.” Tobirama’s blunt honesty was sharp as his blade. “You killed Itama, threw me into the limbo I couldn’t escape, and when I found Hashirama _making friends_ with you I saw red. With how I sensed Izuna run back towards your compound my decision was sealed. At the end of it, brother and I screamed until our voices grew hoarse. We didn’t speak for two months.”

Madara had been mad at Izuna but nowhere near as much as Hashirama had apparently been. Tobirama nodded.

“This is the same fear talking that is present today with his actions. He wants peace for the better of all of us… but mostly so I wouldn’t have to fear for my life. Part of him still fears that father was right. He may act as if he has no care in the world but he is looking for signs that the other shoe is dropping. Should you threaten my life…”

“He will truly turn his mokuton against us, won’t he?” Madara murmured. “We really do only have one chance at this.”

“Possibly.”

Madara sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. It got stuck in the tangles and he shook it free. “The same is with us. Most of the Uchiha are tentatively hopeful that we could end the eternal conflict; we are tired of war. However, there are those of us who are embittered by all the losses we have experienced at you clan’s hands, the older generations in particular. They are willing to give the benefit of doubt…”

He trailed off. Tobirama nodded thoughtfully. They stood there in silence, contemplating on the words shared. Then a truly wicked smirk spread on Tobirama’s face.

“Amaterasu did say that if you were to find other people who wanted peace from the bottom of their hearts, they might be able to hear her too.” He paused and winced as if someone had just yelled straight into his ear but the self-satisfied look didn’t disappear from his face. “It seems that, over the years, the ideals your goddess held and the realities of the world eroded the contact between yourselves.”

“Did she say that?” Madara asked. His heart picked up its pace. That implied that the priests had been wrong for years, claiming to know the way; that the spiral of revenge was not what the Uchiha were intended for.

On one hand, it was relieving to hear; the passion that the Uchiha embodied burned bright and when that same intensity was directed towards bloodshed… Madara had seen many of his kin char under the weight of it. On the other hand though…

If that was not what they were meant for, then what _was_ it?

Tobirama shrugged. “The journey doesn’t need to be unnecessarily prolonged to be learned from,” he said cryptically. He glanced at the moon that was waning in glow. “And you should not have chosen me if you wanted a mere mouthpiece and did not want me to use all the tools I have at hand. You spoke of freedom; I will use it however I want then.”

He turned back to Madara. “I need to go.”

It was nearing the sunrise; their spar—it had truly been one, hadn’t it—must have taken longer than had felt in the moment. Madara inclined his head.

“If we want to make progress, we are going to need you there to answer the concerns of the Uchiha directly,” he said. “My clanmates will not accept a word that could be… misquoted.”

As neither had he. The nod sent his way was brisk.

“Don’t worry. I have a plan.”

They were words that once would have made dread trickle down Madara’s back. They didn’t now. How odd, he thought as Tobirama phased out of his senses. An almost eager grin took over his face when he started his run back home.

Izuna will hate it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now... what do you think, is Tobirama being genuine here or does he have ulterior motives... or both? ;)
> 
> Also, a side note, I like writing these two idiots dancing around each other in multiple ways. Haha.


	8. Tobirama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little longer one this time because I wanted the latter part to be from Tobirama's POV instead of Madara's (or anyone else's). I enjoyed writing this one and hope you enjoy it too :)

Tobirama moved his hand from where he had placed his hiraishin seal, silently crossing the floor of his room. He tugged his fur off and placed it on the back of a nearby chair and shrugged off his cloak, folding it on the seat.

_You told him._

He stripped quickly, hiding his shoes where his brother would not look and thus see the wet spot they would undoubtedly make. After considering it, he slid one of Hashirama’s old shirts that was too big on him underneath them to absorb the water. “I did.”

_Why?_

“A test,” Tobirama said easily. Satisfied with his work, he folded the rest of his clothing and switched into the sleeping garments that he had waiting for him.

_You don’t trust him._

Tobirama snorted. “I am not an idiot. He has his own agenda which I know nothing about but neither does he know what I want. We may share a similar goal now but that’s where it ends.” He paused and added, “For now at least.”

_…I guess I can’t say anything to that._

“I thought so.”

_And what do you intend to find out?_

“What he will do with the information he now has,” Tobirama said. He sat down on his futon but did not move more than that. “Should he use it to advance his own agenda over ours, I will cut it from the bud. Should he attack my brother with it, I will destroy him where he stands. Nothing he has is dangerous towards my clan; he merely knows what Hashirama left unsaid and what pertains to my relationship with you, both of which are personal information rather than anything on the Senju. Even so, there’s not much for him to go on with it… but what he does will give me an idea on how to act with the Uchiha.”

Amaterasu sighed in what felt like his ear. _It would be easier if you just believed._

“Perhaps.” Tobirama watched the growing tendrils of sunlight peek from the horizon. “But it would not be me.”

_No_, Amaterasu agreed. _It would not._

They sat and watched the sun rise.

_You are not sleeping tonight, are you?_

“No.”

_Thought so._

***

Still in his sleeping yukata, Tobirama headed towards the kitchen to find Hashirama already occupying it. The blend of tea they usually had in the morning was steeping on the table and he was putting finishing touches to the miso and fish. The rice was already cooked and waiting next to the stove.

“Good morning!” Hashirama chirped, a little jiggle in his step as he danced from one pan to another. Tobirama sighed inwardly. It was too early for someone to be so… energetic. He took the top of the teapot and smelled it. “Oh, it should be ready if you want to start.”

“Mmm. Thank you,” he replied, reaching for his cup. He poured it half-full and enjoyed taking sips of it. “Are you prepared for the meeting with the council?”

“Yes!” Hashirama tapped his chopsticks against the pan and placed the fish on two plates. He also added a generous amount of rise onto two deeper dishes and brought them all to the table. By that point, Tobirama had risen and taken the miso, so neither had to step up again. “I was up late last night and went over the terms. I am so glad Madara agreed to take out the weaponry clause; there is no way Tomomi would have accepted that. He’s always been so proud of—”

Tobirama listened to Hashirama prattle on, filing his observations for later use. No one could say his brother was stupid; Hashirama was merely easily distracted until something really caught his eye, such as the idea of peace. Then he was as stubborn as a mule about it until he either got his way or it all fell apart but, as the latter had yet happened, he had had time to think on the best approaches. Which, Tobirama thought wryly, probably did not transfer well with how excited he was all the time. All the intricate thought processes he had tended to get lost in the emotional babble he was unfortunately well-known for.

“You need to start slow,” he said then, putting a stop to Hashirama’s idea of signing a treaty as soon as possible. “The elders are more agreeable towards an alliance the likes of the Yamanaka, Nara and Akimichi clans than a full joining. I know you’d prefer a tighter effort but we can’t head straight into it. It would only spell trouble in the long run if you try to force it.”

Hashirama somehow managed to chew on his fish ruefully. “You are right,” he said after swallowing. “I just—I really want this to work, Tobirama.”

“I know you do.” Tobirama set down his empty bowl and placed the chopsticks over it. He rarely finished earlier than Hashirama with his monster appetite but he must have been hungry. Reflecting on the physical activities from last night, he wasn’t surprised. He stifled a yawn behind his tea. “I wouldn’t be too opposed to it either, I suppose.”

_And yet you still had to test them,_ Amaterasu accused him.

“But you need to be careful,” he continued, putting down his cup. “There must be a reason why the goddess didn’t inhabit any of the Uchiha, _her_ _own_ _people_.” He felt Amaterasu scowl inside him, her spot of power thrumming with annoyance. “We need to be _certain_ the Senju won’t suffer should your dream come to pass.”

Hashirama blinked. “Has she said anything to you?”

“Some, but without the whole context I cannot make accurate conclusions.”

Hashirama slumped in his seat but the smile he sent Tobirama’s way was more fond than anything else. “That is why I have you,” he said softly. “You always see what I don’t.”

“Which reminds me—”

“No,” Hashirama denied instantly. Tobirama snorted.

“You can’t deny your way out of it this time, brother,” he said dryly. “Unless you want to accuse the Uchiha of being untrustworthy and ensure that your peace never comes to pass.”

Hashirama frowned, clearly unable to follow his trail of thought. “But I am not?” he said, questioned really.

“Not in such words, certainly.” Tobirama stood up, gathering their dishes. Since Hashirama had made their food this time, it was Tobirama’s turn to clean. “Look at it this way. If Madara left Izuna at the Uchiha compound while you and I were meeting him, what sort of a message would it send?”

“That Madara or Izuna wouldn’t…” Hashirama trailed off. He leaned back in his seat with a groan. “But I trust them!”

“Mostly.”

Hashirama grumbled something under his breath. He poured the last of the tea in his cup and let Tobirama take it to be cleaned. “Fine,” he said. “I see what you mean. And there’s no way I can make them see that… uh, it’s a ‘me and not you’ problem?”

Possibly, knowing Hashirama. He was always convincing in his earnestness. But it was not certain and should it fail it would damage his and the Senju’s standing.

“No,” Tobirama said instead. “I am afraid not.”

Hashirama whined and downed his tea in one. Tobirama set the washed dishes to dry and wiped his hands.

“I will stay at your side the entire time,” he conceded when Hashirama continued to brood. “I will even carry your seeds on me, if you wish.”

Hashirama tilted his head. “Really?” he asked, doubt filling his voice. “You never let me hide any of them in your person.”

“That’s because anything you imbue with your chakra becomes a part of you until you withdraw it and there is such a thing as privacy.” Tobirama looked down at his brother, exasperated. “I am an adult, Hashirama, and I can protect myself.”

Hashirama reached for him and let his fingers trail the stitching on his yukata. “I know that, Tobira,” he said softly. “And I know it annoys you how much I worry. I trust you, I really do. It’s just…” he paused, searching for the right word. Tobirama waited patiently. “You would do the same in my position.”

Tobirama thought it for a minute and conceded the point. If someone ever threatened Hashirama, truly threatened him, he would see them dead. “Perhaps.”

“’Perhaps’,” Hashirama mocked, smile curling on his face. He always looked his best smiling. “You know you would.”

Tobirama refused to let his lips twitch even the slightest bit. “Perhaps.”

Hashirama blew him a raspberry and rose to his feet. Standing next to Tobirama, he had to crane his neck ever so slightly to look his older brother in his eyes.

“Are you coming?” Hashirama asked. “To the meeting.”

“Of course.” He felt a nudge inside him, tugging his attention downwards. Oh, right. “I just need to change.”

“Ah, right. I’ll send Touka to get you.”

Tobirama scowled. “Really, brother?”

“You know you would do the same,” Hashirama sing-sang, now taking a piss at him, and escaped the stab to his person Tobirama had sent his way. Tobirama watched Hashirama walk away with, scowl still plastered on his face but lips tugging. He shook his head.

Only Hashirama.

See that? Not all plans need to be complicated, he thought before backtracking towards his room.

Amaterasu turned her back on him, sniffing.

Figured.

***

Tobirama saw Madara’s eyes widen slightly in surprise when he and his entourage of Uchihas arrived by the Naka river. Izuna was with him too, Tobirama noted, as were several others he both did and did not recognise from the battlefield though their names eluded him. It wasn’t like they had ever been introduced prior to crossing blades. He could feel their eyes on him, which, while understandable, was getting quite annoying. Not to mention Madara’s attempt at gauging Hashirama’s reaction to this all.

He almost scoffed out loud. What did he expect, that they would go into blows over his presence here? Have a dramatic fight that would cause a rift between them and show the results of that to outsiders? Even if that had happened, if one thing had stuck with Butsuma as their parent, it was that everything that happened behind closed doors stayed there.

Besides, Tobirama knew his brother and his antics. If he didn’t tolerate his quirks by now, he would have gone mad already. Some matters just were not important enough to argue about. So while having Touka follow him around could get annoying—and Hashirama was getting better at that too, now that nothing bad had happened the past couple of weeks—they were used to going around Hashirama’s more unreasonable orders and knew how to handle their more often than not ridiculous clan head. It was not the first time they had managed to create a compromise when he was being completely unbearable and made it seem like his own idea.

After all, they had done similar management under Butsuma too. If it had been _those_ two… well. There had been more fights than ever made into the ears of their clan to say the least. The only thing he couldn’t change was the opinion of those who had been there when Butsuma changed from a relatively manageable person to the bloodthirsty beast he died as. Thankfully the generation after them was far more—

“Stop staring at my brother!” Hashirama snapped jovially. His eye kept twitching, a clear sign he was having trouble handling whatever was in front of him. Tobirama rested a hand over his shoulder, bringing his attention away from the ‘threat’.

“They are merely curious,” he said, arching a brow when Madara continued to look at him warily and kept glancing at Hashirama as if he didn’t know if he actually knew the man or not. Tobirama should have remembered that the Uchiha didn’t have a subtle bone in his body. Their last meeting was enough of an indication of that. As if Tobirama hadn’t already decided to explain the things he did but, in case Madara thought it as his own achievement, let him live in that belief. It worked in Tobirama’s favour in any case.

Tobirama turned his attention to Izuna and found him already watching him though with more cautiousness than Madara. He was engaged in light conversation with another Uchiha—an elder by the lines on his face—but his body was slightly shifted towards Tobirama. He also noted the lines on his shoulders, just a tad too high to be completely relaxed.

At least one of them knew what subtlety meant. He already knew that his most common opponent on the field was quick and sharp whereas his brother was more of a powerhouse and reliant on the fact; much like the Senju brothers themselves. The little brothers did have to balance their older brothers’ flaws and learn how to compensate them after all.

“Hashirama,” Madara greeted when he managed to get over himself. “I am glad to see you and your brother in good health.”

“I as well!” Hashirama said, this time even more cheerfully. Tobirama noted the lack of distinction whether he meant them or the Uchiha. In an evasion tactic that left no question as to whether Tobirama was a safe topic or not, he said, “I assume you have your revised demands?”

“I—yes, we have.” Wisely—surprisingly—Madara decided not to contest the warning and fished out their scroll. Tobirama did the same, releasing the seal stitched inside his sleeve that was wider than in his usual attire. They had left their heaviest armour at home, now wearing a more comfortable version of it, the one they used during courier missions where speed was of the essence and could be hidden underneath an outer layer. He gave the scroll to Hashirama who made the exchange in turn.

“The Uchiha are glad that good faith between our clans has been found,” Madara started. It sounded somewhat wooden, as if he had practiced before their arrival. “And that you are trusting us with the presence of the Blessed.”

The ground—roots, really—moved beneath Tobirama’s feet. So not completely ignored then. He wanted to roll his eyes at the high heavens at his brother’s theatrics but that would have been bad etiquette.

“I couldn’t have you believe that I don’t trust our allies, could I?” Hashirama said, looking over the scroll. Nodding once to himself, he passed it for Tobirama to have his own look. “It would be a shame should our greatest mind be left outside the negotiations.”

Madara sent another look Tobirama’s way. He ignored it, instead flicking his eyes towards Izuna, subtly tilting his head. While they had never spoken more than threats against each other, Izuna seemed to catch his message as he chirped eerily bright, “It did seem like the esteemed Senju Touka was speaking words that were not originally hers. We are glad that the time for direct discussion is here.”

…Better than nothing, Tobirama thought as Hashirama was distracted from his annoyance.

“We have brought here with us today a select few, hoping your brother would join us.” Hashirama’s aura immediately darkened again and Tobirama knew he would have a headache by the end of the day if the Uchiha kept up with the whiplashes. Amaterasu only giggled in response. Just wait and see the asshole becoming her new favourite.

_I’ll still love you the most,_ she assured him.

The thought was not comforting at all.

_Rude._

“You know most of us, but today we are joined by the honourable Uchiha Kikyo,” Izuna introduced. The woman, seemingly frail but wiry in a way that screamed a skill great enough to carry far past the average age shinobi fell on the battlefield. “She has been selected to represent the Uchiha elders; her companions you already met last time.”

“We admit having questions for the… Blessed,” Kikyo said. Her tone was doubtful of his credentials and he didn’t blame her. Had a goddess literally not invited herself to live inside him, he would have been as well. Prior to this, he barely believed in the existence of the Pure Lands either.

_You need evidence on everything, don’t you?_ Amaterasu pouted. _No miracle is a mere miracle for you._

If you already knew it, then why ask?

He heard his words sent back to him, mockingly voiced, so he ignored her in favour of listening to the Uchiha elder drone on the reasons for their disbelief. Why even explain? Everyone should be suspicious of the strange events happening in front of them. Only fools accepted anything without questioning.

_Not everyone is like you._

At this, maybe they should be.

“My brother will answer questions after the talks,” Hashirama said as politely as he could after the elder stopped. She looked ready to spit sparks but Madara took the reigns and, with one last strange look sent Hashirama’s way, launched into the subject of border patrols and the possibility of other clans in disguise attempting to break the fletching talks by hiring them on the opposing sides. With how the Senju had raised similar doubts, it seemed more likely that, if nothing else, they’d have a militaristic alliance. Having assigned himself to the note taking as Touka was on a mission today, he wrote down the different suggestions that rose on how to handle the situation.

It would still leave them at odds, Tobirama noted, but at least there would be no more death between them and it’d be a deterrent to other clans attempting to cause infighting. The Senju and the Uchiha were, after all, some of the strongest clans in the Fire Country and, should they ally, it would upset the balance and create a more favourable position for them against the smaller clans. It would be in those clans’ best interests should the peace talks fail.

They would need to be careful, he thought, and voiced his concern. Based on the look on Izuna’s face, he had come to the same conclusion and it was quickly agreed that they would need to make a formal agreement on that as quickly as possible. It took them time to come out with a good phrasing to bring to the table on both of their clan’s side and the light hours were quickly fading.

“Shall we continue next time?” Hashirama asked. Tobirama wrote down the last note, watching a man closely resembling Madara and Izuna make one of his. He thought his name started with an ‘H’ but Tobirama wasn’t sure.

“Yes,” Madara agreed. “Five days from now?”

Hashirama thought on it and nodded. “That is fine.”

“Then it is agreed.” Without beating around the bush, Madara then added, “As mentioned, we would appreciate asking the Blessed questions before we go.”

Tobirama had been somewhat impressed how the Uchiha had managed himself today, both temperament and otherwise. While there had been times when Madara’s temper had been tried today—Tobirama was pretty sure he had seen steam come out of his ears at one particularly low point—he had not lost his grip on his tongue once even when it had been clear he had been biting it, hard. Even with how Tobirama had practically goaded him previously…

“I suppose we would have time for a few,” Hashirama replied magnanimously. Tobirama felt the seeds hidden inside his pockets and sown into his sleeves stir. Exasperated, he rolled the scroll and lightly whacked Hashirama’s arm with it. The presence that had been gathering around them eased as did the tenseness of the more chakra-sensitive Uchiha. Obediently, and slightly chastised if unapologetic, Hashirama took the roll to examine it. The revised demands had already been exchanged back earlier.

“What is it that you need?” Tobirama asked. “The daylight is fading.”

Madara looked a second away from commenting on it but, again, his lips pursed. Instead, when he did open his mouth, he formally asked, “Is it at all possible for the Sun goddess to grace us with her presence?”

Tobirama looked where the sunrays were creeping beyond horizon and waited.

_Not at this point in time_, Amaterasu replied though she refused to materialise and try. She had stayed mostly quiet during the meeting, quite considering in light of her general nosiness. _Hey! I can be considerate!_

“She says today is not the day for it,” he translated.

The elderly woman took a step forward, one of her companions—the man Izuna had spoken to when they arrived—keeping close to her side. He was younger than her though not much and shared more features with Madara and Izuna than the woman. An uncle of some sort? “Could she give us a sign that she is present?” she asked, tone deceptively sweet and gruff at the same time.

_I gave them a show for this very reason!_ Amaterasu grumbled. _What more do they want? For me to dress in drag and do the hula?_

Please don’t.

_I won’t. But I would look good in one, just so you know!_

“She is questioning why you distrust her so much that you refuse to acknowledge the results of your own ritual.”

The sweet look on the elder’s face sharpened. “We would like to have some confirmation this is not some elaborate scheme.”

“Careful, Kikyo-san,” Izuna interjected lazily. “It almost sounds like you are accusing one of our clan of treachery.”

She seemed to sour for a moment which made Tobirama immediately focus on Izuna’s words. Had she expected Izuna to back her instead of her brother? Is that why Madara had been so insistent on—

“Of course not, Izuna-sama,” she said. “But there is the question whether he actually does hear her or not. We do not deny the outcome as her touch is visible before us but want reassurance that she is here and it was no mere fleeting moment in time.”

She knew her way around words. It made Tobirama think if, perhaps, she had lived in a court for she certainly knew how to talk her out of a trap.

“Understandable,” he said. He kept his hands at his side, stance open. “Then ask.”

The elder—Kikyo—looked right at him, mouth a thin line.

“What was the name of her previous host?”

Amaterasu hissed and, had she been a cat, her fur would have been ruffled. Then, immediately afterwards, she somehow managed to curl herself around Tobirama without making herself corporeal.

_No… Her sister, isn’t she?_ she hummed, less confrontational and more curious, even soft, than a mere second ago. _Kanae. Her name was—_

“Uchiha Kanae-san.”

Kikyo stared at him for the longest time, expression stilted, before she bowed her head.

“Forgive me for my doubts and lack of faith, Amaterasu-sama,” she said, voice filled with emotion. “I had thought you had abandoned the Uchiha.”

“You are forgiven,” Tobirama echoed Amaterasu’s words. There was a story there, hidden behind decades of grief, that possibly only two of those present were in the know of. That is, he thought as he glanced at the narrowed and puzzled looks sent her way, what it seemed like at least.

“Kanae always did speak of…” Kikyo muttered to herself before she shook her head. Expression hardening again, closing her vulnerability inside, she faced Tobirama again. “And why did Amaterasu-sama choose _you_ and not an Uchiha?” There was disgust in the elder’s voice, something that a couple of kind words could not erase, and the skin around Madara’s eyes tightened.

This time Tobirama did not stop himself from scoffing derisively.

“This version of me you’ve created in your mind is not my responsibility,” he said. “And far be it from me to criticise what your goddess does.”

“May we,” Madara interrupted, sending a meaningful glare towards the woman. She harrumphed but fell silent. “Ask a question from her graceful light?”

“You may,” Tobirama said, letting Madara take control of the conversation so it would actually head somewhere.

“Why hasn’t she graced us with her presence for so long?”

Tobirama stopped himself from nodding in approval. Madara already knew that, of course; this was more in benefit of the Uchiha as a whole. Perhaps he wasn’t completely a lost cause, having a working brain underneath all that hair.

_That’s not fair of you, _Amaterasu scolded him._ He’s doing rather well under the conditions!_

Tobirama kept watching forward. While she may be right—god forbid—he didn’t have to acknowledge it.

_I can still hear you!_

“Well?” Madara asked and Tobirama realised he had stayed quiet a bit too long.

“My apologies, Amaterasu was speaking to me,” he replied.

“How do we know he’s not lying?” one of the elder’s companions barked. He looked less like Madara and Izuna though he did resemble the other man on Kikyo’s side. Another uncle or a more distant relative? To Tobirama’s surprise, it was Izuna who snorted in a laugh at that.

“Tobirama may be many things but a liar he is not,” he said loftily. “He’ll twist the truth to his liking but a true lie? I have to go with a no on that one.”

Tobirama was careful not to show any outward reaction to Izuna’s words. They were uncomfortably close to truth. He had known Izuna was sharp—he had to be to keep up with Tobirama, not to toot his own horn—but that statement was also far more perceptive than it had any right being. He would have to re-evaluate how well Izuna hid his wit behind his classic Uchiha temper.

“Izuna-san is right,” he said instead, as much as he hated admitting Izuna was right about anything, garnering a narrow-eyed look from his rival at the honorific… or perhaps he hadn’t managed to hide his distaste well enough. “I would not endanger my brother’s will for such short-term results when they would serve neither the Senju nor the Uchiha.”

The elder didn’t look satisfied with his answer but her other companion, the one who had remained silent at her side this whole time, did at least look like he was considering it.

_Tell them that—_

“While I cannot claim I know the way of the gods and goddesses, least of all the Sun herself,” Tobirama started, listening to Amaterasu while translating her words to a more concise form, “she has asked me to inform you to examine whether you are… happy?” His brows knit together in confusion though he was not the only one on the shore. “She says that she senses deep dissatisfaction within your people and that that has made it impossible for her to penetrate and let her voice heard—”

_Their soul, Tobirama_, Amaterasu urged him. _Their very soul is rotting with hate. They are people of love, of life, but their actions within—_

“—So she used the next best option, knowing that this way you could not mishear her for she was in front of you, no longer drowning in the middle of all that noise.”

“The priests,” the older possibly-uncle said quietly. It must have meant something to Kikyo since she nodded once sharply and gestured that she had nothing more to say. Her companions followed her cue and stepped back too though the youngest of them did not seem particularly happy about it.

My soul was filled with hate too, Tobirama thought silently after he finished his translation. Madara and Hashirama broke into a swift argument over what seemed like—

Somewhere inside him he felt a caress course through his entire being.

_Filling_, she admitted, _but not filled. And so much love in plain sight it burned like the sun, focused on protection so much more than revenge._

His eyes widened with sudden understanding.

That’s why you killed them, not just because of your ‘gamble’. So I wouldn’t—

_Shh_, she whispered, gently nudging him like a mother would. _The meeting is not done yet._

In his thoughts Tobirama lifted his head, accidentally meeting Izuna’s scrutinizing black eyes. This was the first time they had ever made direct eye contact, Tobirama realised dully, but neither broke the gaze they were locked into. Only when he felt more than saw Hashirama bow next to him did he move to imitate the gesture and, thus, the connection was lost. He entertained the thought whether there was a genjutsu that the Uchiha could trap him without the use of their sharingan but dismissed it due to having no recollection of his senses being twisted.

_I wouldn’t let that happen._ Amaterasu sounded almost offended when she said that. Then, meddlesome and cheeky as she always was, she added:

_So… did Madara hold up to the test?_

Tobirama flicked a look in the said Uchiha’s direction and, knowing he couldn’t catch his attention without bringing Hashirama down on him too, he sent a quick hand sign to Izuna indicating ‘two days’. With a pointed if also speculating look, Izuna merely looked away as if nothing had happened.

That evening Tobirama left the river with a case of curiosity, an acknowledgement that there truly were more to the Uchiha than a naked eye could see and that he would give Madara a true chance, and a strange new connection he didn’t know if he wanted to explore. Yet, even as he thought that, he knew he didn’t have a choice.

The warm pulse inside him and the contemplative look in Izuna’s eyes had declared as much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less drama than you probably thought, haha. Hashirama has tunnel vision but he's not stupid. He did realise that leaving Tobirama out was a decision that could, theoretically, have cost him more than letting him stay 'safe' inside the Senju compound. Better late than never, right? Also, if there's someone who knows how to handle him, it's Tobirama. Lol. The conflict is far from over though, for either side. Although some more intrigue has entered the game! Yay.
> 
> ...I wonder what Izuna is up to? :p


	9. Madara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays! Hope it has been a good one. The first half of the chapter has been ready for a bit now but I wasn't sure whose POV I wanted to explore the next part on so here we are, with an extended cut. Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Have a good New Year (and hopefully new decade too)!

When Madara and the rest of his delegate arrived back to the Uchiha compound, Kikyo quickly bowed and made her excuses before storming off. Kensuke nodded at them as well and followed her whereas Kentaro, who had not stopped grumbling the whole way back, made one last complaint—Madara didn’t know what it was about, he had tuned him out after the first five minutes to their journey—and left towards the market square, perhaps in search of dinner. Madara had no idea and, frankly, he didn’t care. He dismissed the guard and motioned Izuna and Hikaku to follow him.

On their way towards the house Madara shared with Izuna, a blurry figure rushed at them and Madara was quick to snatch the missile in form of a child when it launched at him.

“Madara-sama!” Kagami—because of course it was him—chirped. “Auntie said you were seeing the Blessed today? Did you? Does he look like the legends? Is his hair truly white? Is he a he? I mean, people say he’s a he. Is he? A he? Oh! And red eyes. Does he have red eyes? Like ours? Wait, they don’t spin, do they? Because he’s not an Uchiha. Why is he not an Uchiha? Then his eyes could spin, like, really fast! Like yours or Izuna-sama’s! Or—”

The kid had no shame and no filter. He was worse than Madara remembered Izuna being as a child which was a lot said. Curious too, dangerously so. His sense of danger was seriously hampered by that. Case in point, jumping on Madara when there were less dangerous Uchiha around. Like Hikaku. Who was decidedly not looking in their direction while Izuna was doing a bad job at hiding his chortles. The moment Madara’s hands were free he was exacting his revenge on the traitors. They would hang from their entrails—

“We saw him,” he said, just to get the kid to shut up. Kagami did, mouth hanging open mid-sentence, and eyes wide as the waited for Madara to continue. “And… he has hair. White hair. And red eyes.”

“Whoa,” the kid sighed, mouth stretching into an awed grin despite the awkward, stilted response. “Is he pretty?”

Madara spluttered and this time Izuna couldn’t help it. His laughter echoed in their quiet little corner. “Is he, brother?” Izuna asked between his giggles. “Do you think he’s pretty?”

His cheeks burning, Madara blurted out a quick “No!” He winced when Kagami’s face dropped and hastily corrected himself with a, “I mean, he’s… nice-looking. I guess.” At least Izuna seemed to have the time of his life with his stumbling.

“Tell me,” Kagami whined. “Everyone just says he looks like a Senju or a ghost or a ghost of a Senju but all the stories say the Blessed is always pretty and special! I mean, the Senju are not pretty or special—that’s what auntie says—but no one has _really_ seen him and they have to be wrong! Amaterasu-sama wouldn’t pick just anyone! Madara-sama—!”

“Alright, alright!” he snapped and this made Kagami go quiet again with an expectant expression. Gods did the kid know how to annoy people to do his bidding. “He’s like the legends say, alright? His hair is white as freshly fallen snow, skin just a tad darker than that, and eyes a shade brighter than the sharingan.” And then, annoyed, he grumbled to himself, “If the stars align, quick enough on his feet to beat one too.”

Kagami’s eyes shone. “Is he—?”

“Tall, with a slimmer built than most Senju possess, with more graceful deadliness than his buffoon of a brother. Is that what you wanted to hear?!”

“Is he smart?” the child insisted. “Fair and kind?”

This kid. He groaned. “The world would be a better place if he was half as smart.”

Kagami frowned. “You don’t mean that.”

The Uchiha clan head tilted his head upwards and stared at the dark sky. He hated perceptive little brats. “I wish I did,” he grunted. That one, at least, was the truth.

“Madara-sama makes him sound nicer than nice,” the kid accused. Then his attitude did a whole 180 and he chirped, “Can I come next time? I want to see him!”

Madara took in a deep, shaky breath. Any moment now—

“Kagami-kun.”

Hikaku, blessed be, came to his rescue. He took Kagami from Madara’s unresisting arms and tucked him against his hip with familiarity that Madara lacked. “We are still in the middle of negotiations. While we would love to have you there, it is still impossible for us to do, unfortunately.”

“But we haven’t had a Blessed in so long,” Kagami whined. “No one remembers the last one! I want to see him!”

“And I am sure you will.” With a look Madara’s way and getting a nod in approval, he started walking away towards where Kagami was staying with one of the civilian Uchiha. Madara doubted she had even realised the escape artist was gone yet. “What would you like to say when you do meet him?”

“Meet? Me? You’ll allow me to talk to him?” The kid sounded awed at the mere possibility. “Uh. Um? Um! He’s strong, right? Madara-sama said so and Amaterasu-sama would never pick a weakling as her Blessed, right? Is he strong, Hikaku-sama?”

“Senju Tobirama-sama is second only to his brother, Senju Hashirama-sama.”

“Madara-sama’s rival?” Delighted, Kagami launched into another set of queries but, thankfully, they had reached the edge of their earshot. Madara’s shoulders slumped in relief.

The only brat he had ever truly had to deal with was Izuna and he couldn’t have just thrown the kid into a pond like he regularly did with his own brother. Sometimes being the clan head was more trouble than worth.

“The kid’s energetic for sure,” Izuna commented. There was something in his voice that tickled Madara’s senses—his laughter had faded away during Madara and Kagami’s ‘conversation’—but today he had no desire to see what Izuna was plotting about. He grunted in agreement and they slipped inside their house. The shoes were left by the door and they quickly took off their outer garments and armor now that they were inside the safety of four walls. “At least he’s bouncing back.”

“He’s latching onto the idea of the Blessed too much.” The thought troubled Madara. No one got over their mother’s death this quick, especially not an Uchiha. “I’m glad he doesn’t blame the Senju for Mika, but I fear for him.”

“Do you think…?” Izuna trailed off. Madara shrugged, motioning his brother to follow him as he made his way deeper into the house.

“I don’t know. I’m hopeful but if this falls through it will hit him twice as hard.”

“It will hit all of us.” Izuna’s brows were knitted together and his fingers carded through his ponytail in thought. “It would look like our goddess gave up on us.”

“Do you think we’ll have trouble from Kikyo? She seemed to believe Tobirama, in the end.” As they passed the kitchen, he realized how late in the evening it was. “Are you hungry?” Madara wasn’t himself—he just wanted to rest himself, he could eat a larger breakfast tomorrow—but he could whip something up if Izuna was. Thankfully, Izuna shook his head.

“I’ll just grab an onigiri or two when I get back.”

“Get back?”

“Yes. I’ll know more about Kikyo after I find out what Kensuke meant with his earlier comment.” He rolled his eyes at the frown Madara sent him. “You know, ‘the priests’? At the meeting? The thing that got Kikyo to back off? Not that the white bastard didn’t do a good job out of it however much it pains me to admit that. Do you know anything about Kanae-san?”

“Just what the rest do too.”

Izuna thrummed his fingers on his loosely crossed arms. “Me too. We need to go back to the archives afterwards. There must be _something_ there we missed the first time on the records.”

Madara paused, hand on the door to his office. “Didn’t Kikyo look over those documents?” he asked. “I don’t recall having a look at them at all.”

“She… did.” Izuna blinked and then spat fire. “Of course she did, the witch. And because it was not priority, no one questioned it. They better be in the archives, untouched, or I’m burning her garden down!”

“If she tampered with the official documents, she’ll deserve it.” The growl in Madara’s voice rumbled in his chest. “If I find _one more person_ who stands in front of our efforts to make sure they _don’t starve_ I’m stringing them over the wall.” Then his bluster died and he rubbed the skin between his eyes. “What do I have to do for them to _see_ that we are doing all of this, risking all we have, for _them_?”

He felt eyes on him and after lifting his gaze he saw Izuna staring at him with a peculiar expression.

“What?”

That broke his brother’s reverie and he waved his hand, dismissing his concern. “Nothing. I just remembered that I’m taking a mission tomorrow and will be back in three days so you’ll have to handle the clan matters without me for a few days.”

“But I haven’t given you any,” Madara mused, a little confused. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing bad, we are just running low on some supplies to my liking, rice and the like. I didn’t have time to tell you but before we left one of my informants sent me a missive about a merchant from the Water Country. He’s making his way east and I want to catch him before he reaches the Wind Country and possibly trade. They don’t have our skill and ability to bend metal in either and I’m sure I can sell the idea to him.”

Madara sighed and grabbed Izuna to pull him close to him. He was so lucky to have him and have him _with_ him and not against him. “I love you, little brother. Be careful.”

“I love you too.” Izuna pulled away with a smile. “If I don’t see you in the morning, I’ll leave you notes on what I managed to eavesdrop.”

“Don’t confront her alone.”

The smile turned into an exaggerated eyeroll. “I’m not an idiot, brother. But you may have to go down to the archives yourself with Hikaku.”

Madara made a face but inclined his head. “When you get back, I’ll have what we need to confront her.”

“Said like a true schemer.” Izuna wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “I am so proud of you!”

Madara went for a swipe and Izuna danced away with a laugh that tinkled in the hallway. “Be gone, pest!”

“And there he goes, hating on the innocent for speaking the truth,” Izuna sad dramatically, clutching his chest and pretending to faint.

“I’ll show you where you can put your ‘truth’!”

“What a cruel brother I have.” The effect on the lament was lessened by the grin Madara could hear. “Go have a bath, you smell.”

“Shut up.”

“You’ll never catch a partner if you don’t care for yourself.”

“As if anyone wants a flirty ass like you either!”

“At least I get laid more than once in a blue moon.” Izuna looked back over his shoulder, almost gone from Madara’s sight as he leaned on the wall at the end of the hallway. “Is Kikyo at the shrine?”

Madara focused on his senses and nodded. “Uncle Kensuke is there too along with the priests.”

“No one else?”

“None.”

“Interesting,” Izuna mumbled and then, with a wave of hand, he left Madara’s sight and hurried away towards the west side of the compound. Madara rolled his shoulders and, now that no one was there to witness it, sniffed his underarms. He grimaced.

Damn Izuna for being right. He truly was in a need of a good wash. The moon peeked behind the clouds and the shadows danced before him with quick and cutting movements. Madara’s mind threw him back to the scene with moonlit sky and flurry of battle, easy movements and eager tilts of the mouth; the glinting red and sharp words with even finer features and wit.

_Is he pretty?_ Kagami’s voice echoed in the quiet of the hallway.

He shook his head and the vision dissipated. He turned his back to it to go heat up the water.

“No,” he repeated his answer quietly from earlier. “He’s not pretty.”

But in the silence his words echoed and twisted in the swirling liquid before him. With the moon’s glow as his only companion, he could admit to himself—and only himself—that the words were not a lie, not completely. In the presence of the sun herself and the rays she sent down to meet the earth and its habitants, the edge of the moon faded from Madara’s memory and was replaced with the shine of the sun.

No, Tobirama was not pretty.

He was beautiful.

Swearing to himself never to breathe the thought aloud lest he attract more trouble than worth, he stripped from his clothes, throwing them into their growing pile of laundry, and stepped into the now warm bath. The heat instantly soothed his tense shoulders and he sighed in pleasure. With Izuna standing still within his senses, even feeling Kagami and Hikaku sit down for dinner and the hopeful anticipation that mostly lingered over his people, Madara was lulled to the state of drowsiness that predated sleep.

He could rest there. Just for a moment. He would move soon. He would.

Alit red danced before his eyes and a thought of how he would be seeing them again in a five days’ time was the last thing he knew before his consciousness faded away.

***

Izuna arrived back a few days later with enough bags of rice to help them last a week more if they weren’t wasteful with it. It was not much on a large scale but, considering the clan’s size, it was certainly more than enough. He had managed to bargain less than Madara thought as well; perhaps, should the situation repeat, they could send Izuna out to trade again. No matter how much Madara ragged on him, Izuna’s tongue was as slippery as a snake’s and twice as talented.

“We didn’t find much on Kanae-san,” Madara said once they had withdrawn into his office. “She was only eight when she passed and, according to the records, Amaterasu-sama had been with her for only seven months.”

“Did her presence put a strain on her?” Izuna asked, frowning. Madara shook his head.

“I doubt it. She was sickly and bedridden for most of her life up until Amaterasu-sama touched her. From what we could gather, her last months were kind and spent dancing in the sun.”

“That is good to hear.” His little brother did sound that way too; it would have been unbearable to know many of their ancestors had suffered a thing they thought as a gift. “Did you follow up on Kikyo and Kensuke?”

Madara grimaced. “I did. The rituals are, for now, banned. Did they really have a screaming match?”

“Well, almost.” A mischievous smile flashed across his face. “Uncle Kensuke—and imagine that, proper, respectful Kensuke—_yelled_. It was a quiet yell but still. He was angry, very angry, and so was Kikyo. I don’t know what it was about yet more than that they blamed a lot of our current difficulties on them.” His smile died. “And that Amaterasu-sama went with a non-Uchiha this time around.”

“I did hide the religious texts; they came looking for them yesterday and left anxious.”

Izuna nodded, relieved. “Good, I didn’t think of that. The clan, how did they—?”

“They don’t know yet,” Madara said, dark look crossing his features. “We have Tsukuyomi’s celebration in five weeks’ time but nothing prior to that so hopefully we have solved the problem before that.”

“And if they go looking for counsel?”

“The priests are not sequestered away but Hikaku set some of his most trusted subordinates to keep them in check.”

“Hikaku is a good judge of character,” Izuna admitted. While Madara and he had inherited the traditional Uchiha temper and thus were prone to bristling, Hikaku had not. He had gotten his grandmother’s famous level-headedness instead. “What did he think of this?”

“He was quite certain that the priests are innocent.” This made them both frown as the easy culprit was, yet again, taken away from them. “But he also thinks that Kikyo and Kensuke aren’t in the wrong either. He agrees with Amaterasu-sama instead, about how something has grown between us and her to act as a wall.”

“If even Hikaku…” Izuna drummed his fingers. “But what is it?”

Madara could only shrug. “He’s going through the texts as we speak. I was with him until I could feel you enter my range.”

“Anything?”

He shook his head. “Not as of yet, nothing that could seem suspicious. They are just legends and rituals we have conducted since before the Uchiha were known as the Uchiha.”

Izuna let out an annoyed huff. He straightened from his slouch over Madara’s desk and walked over to the window. “So it really has come to this…” he mumbled. There were lines on his face and circles under his eyes that spelled late nights.

Madara reached out to gently touch him. “You need to go to bed,” he told him. His brother simply shook his head.

“I can’t. I still have—”

“Nothing so important that can’t be delayed by a few hours of sleep.” Madara shook his arm a little, only to get Izuna’s frown directed at him. “And you know it.”

“The demands?”

“Nothing new on that front either. We are gathering tomorrow and then meeting with the Senju on the day after.”

“That better go better now that we have ‘proof’,” Izuna said, sniffing. Now that he was onboard, he took personal offence at anyone who still had lingering doubts. “Since Kikyo is convinced, she should be able to sway the majority of the contrarians.”

Madara sighed. “We can only hope.” While he was optimistic, he was no Hashirama and wasn’t willing to run in without back-up. “Though that still doesn’t solve the general disagreements.”

“And nothing probably will up until whatever peace we have managed to bumble into has been in effect for years but that is not something we need to consider now.” Madara raised his brows at Izuna who, when he noticed it, grimaced at the unintended irony. “Shut up.”

“Sleep. Now.”

Izuna raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’m going, no need to get your pants all twisted.” He glanced somewhere around the top of Madara’s head. “Or your hair in tangles. Sheesh, when was the last time a brush went anywhere _near_ that… whatever that is? Did it eat it? Or have the birds living in it mutated into a brush-eating species?”

“_Izuna_,” Madara warned him, hand rising somewhere between affront and a protective gesture. It wasn’t _his_ fault he didn’t get their mother’s silken locks. His brother made a face at him and he made one right back. Izuna threw his hands in the air, higher this time.

“I give up. Here I am, doing my best to ensure whatever this is will work out and I’m being tossed around like a sad sack of rice. I am feeling the love, the care, the pride in every step I take, every breath I make—”

“_Izuna_!”

His brother vanished from his sight, his aggravated chakra bounding towards his room; he must have known Madara would follow him until it eased into sleep… which he was. The fireball that had burst with Madara’s shock of temper died in the air when he withdrew his chakra from it, just as quick as it had flared into life.

Madara slumped into his chair. It creaked under his weight. A spar would definitely be welcome right now.

A flash of sharp white crossed his vision. He groaned.

_Shut up!_

***

Two days later more things had been agreed on. Even more had been fought about. None of them had been about Tobirama.

Madara would call that progress.

Izuna had been unusually quiet next to him; instead, he had let Uncle Kensuke and Madara pick up most of the slack. Likewise, across from them, Hashirama was speaking louder than his brother—nothing abnormal about that—but the woman, their cousin if Madara wasn’t wrong, was being an annoyance. She was standing on Tobirama’s other side and acting like a dog with a bone if there ever was any. Any hole there may have been in the Uchiha’s argument, she attacked it with a deceptive chirp that hinted teeth. Now that she wasn’t acting in Tobirama’s name, Madara really saw her letting go and being herself. He wasn’t certain he liked the change. He would have preferred her to be on his side instead of against it. Kikyo might have given her a run of her money had she not stayed in the Uchiha compound this time, siting old age and the troubles it brought. An excuse as bad as any, but not one they could contest. No medic could ease that pain.

“There is one way we could help each other see eye to eye,” Izuna piped up after Hashirama lamented—wailed, really—about the snappish responses sent from one side to the other.

“Truly?” The Senju cousin—what was her name, something starting with a ‘T’ or a ‘D’—asked. Her tone grew sweet as candy that would break teeth when bitten into. “And what is this miracle effort no one has suggested yet? It wouldn’t be that the Uchiha—”

“Touka,” Tobirama admonished. The woman clacked her tongue and stepped back, metaphorically, sending a questioning look towards her cousin. Tobirama nodded his thanks and then turned to Izuna. “And what do you suggest?”

“Simple. We need to learn each other’s ways and make an obvious… _endeavour_, the likes of Amaterasu-sama. Something that brings some… _kick_ into things. What do you say?”

Izuna smiled. It was his scheming, ‘I got you and there’s nothing you can do about it’ smile. It made Madara’s skin crawl and he _knew_ he wasn’t going to like whatever Izuna was going to say. He also knew he was too late though. Izuna had already started; he would make sure he ended it too.

Hashirama tilted his head, curious. Madara knew that look too.

Too late indeed.

“What is it?”

Izuna’s smile turned too pleasant to be real.

“What better way to let us learn, to _know_, each other than live with one another? See our traditions live through our actions, see that we are all… human. Switch clanmates with each other, perhaps people of high hierarchy, people who are… untouchable, under the threat of treason.” The grin widened enough to show teeth. Madara caught onto his trail of thought and his eyes snapped into unsurprised reds when Izuna spoke the words he now knew to dread:

“Such as the clan heirs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The foundation has been laid. Now we get to enjoy the fruits :)


	10. Tobirama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2020, everyone!

_“You can’t be serious!”_

The cold breeze tickled the uncovered skin of Tobirama’s cheeks, biting the flesh with its touch. It was almost as chilling as the company he kept. Madara’s face was stuck in a grimace and there was certain stiffness present in the lines of his shoulders that only grew as their feet took them closer to the compound and away from the middle ground between the Uchiha and the Senju. Touka followed Tobirama’s every step, close enough to touch the hems that the wind caressed behind him.

_“If we continue with one concession at a time, we’ll be here until we are all grey! You said it yourself, the winter is coming!”_

The aghast silence that had fallen after Izuna’s words had broken into pandemonium where each side had shouted their denial of his plan’s efficiency and of its plain lunacy. Distrust had roared its ugly head, the one they had barely managed to beat below the surface, and took control. Tobirama had felt the fear simmer below Hashirama’s smile, frozen on his face; the anger clear on Touka; and the general unease and alarm behind them, not to mention in front amidst the Uchiha. On top of it all Madara had kept staring at him, stricken and confused, with even more under the surface that Tobirama would have had to focus on to be able to discern.

_“Tobira—"_

He hadn’t had time for that.

_“Izuna-san’s idea… is not completely without merit.”_

Instead, he had turned his head away and focused on the meeting instead, closing off every and all distraction, and worked on the plan Izuna had hatched—and he had perfected—during that long, long night a couple of days earlier.

Tobirama shook himself from his thoughts when they jumped off the trees and into the open field where the Uchiha compound was located. It was deceptively clear of people but Tobirama could feel chakra simmer below the ground. It was filled with traps and, if Tobirama had been his brother, he would have bet all his property that there were plenty of others he couldn’t sense and might catch him off-guard should he take one misstep behind Madara.

Or rather, considering Hashirama’s luck when it came to gambling, he would have had to put his money on the opposite, trusting idiot—mostly—that he was. The outcome was the same anyway. He trod lightly.

The gates opened and Tobirama and Touka followed Madara in, mindful of their steps, the rest of the Uchiha closing the path behind them and then out of reach was their way out. Tobirama looked around curiously, carefully keeping his head still and only letting his eyes flick from one place to another. He could feel many presences within the walls—some others outside—and together they numbered to slightly more than the overall number of the Senju. Should they focus their whole force—

No, they were making sure that didn’t happen. Tobirama carefully didn’t react when the chatter around them quieted down until all the Uchiha were staring in their direction. Since Touka and he were dressed in the blues and greens more traditional to the Senju rather than the blacks and reds and other dark hues of the Uchiha, they stuck out like a sore thumb. And considering his own new colouring…

Well. There would be no question of who Madara was escorting nor where, Tobirama thought as he saw a house more decorated than the others in the middle of the compound. The overall layout of the home to their former adversaries was similar to that of the Senju, though it was more clustered, and the houses seemed bigger; perhaps the Uchiha were more family-oriented than the Senju as a whole.

Whispers travelled with them as they crossed the streets. The elder accompanying them passed Tobirama and Touka, clasped Madara’s shoulder, and left towards what looked like a shrine.

My_ shrine_, Amaterasu said proudly. _It’s beautiful, especially on the inside. Their workmanship is marvellous, the Uchiha’s that is, detailing even more so, and it’s _definitely_ better than any of Tsukuyomi’s I’ve ever seen._

“You don’t seem to like him very much,” Tobirama muttered quietly. The muscles on Madara’s back tightened momentarily and Touka looked at him, mouth pursed. He glanced at her, then at Madara and back, and shook his head. Touka turned away, watching their surroundings. For anyone who didn’t know her there would be no change in her body language, seemingly just as wary as before, but Tobirama could sense her chakra take a turn from rumbling to something more… grounded if also cautious. Madara’s own chakra spiked up once in sharp curiosity, but he didn’t turn around, just continued his stalk forward.

_He’s a sourpuss who hates everyone. What’s there to like?_

One of her exaggerations again, Tobirama inwardly sighed. Amaterasu immediately bristled.

_It is not!_ she claimed hotly. _He’s never welcoming when I’m trying to visit, all mean and grumpy and _mean_, and-and he spends all his time up on the moon, deigning to come down only once per year and not even _that_ these past few years! During his own celebration, his followers all but forgotten! I’d have thought he would go crazy, being locked up within all that empty space, but noooooo, mister ‘go away, I’m busy’ is too good for company and fun! What’s ‘busy’ about a space rock where nothing _grows_?_

“Not all agree with your idea of fun.”

_Well, they_ should.

“We are here,” Madara said and stopped. Tobirama blinked, his ‘guest’ forgotten, taking a surreptitious look out of the corners of his eyes. Madara made a sign and the guards following them bowed and disappeared into the crowd. They didn’t leave far from Tobirama’s senses, only gathered around the house to spots where it would be easiest to guard.

He made good on his promise to Hashirama, Madara that is, to keep Tobirama and Touka as safe as possible; not that Tobirama had any doubts on that, with Izuna as their safeguard or not.

Madara took a deep breath and then turned around, stepping forward so he was standing on Tobirama’s right. With Touka on his left, he was left conspicuously in the middle for all to see and gawk at.

“Uchiha!” Madara bellowed, his voice carrying over the dark-haired masses before them. “As a sign of the continued goodwill between us and the Senju, Senju Hashirama-sama has allowed his brother and Amaterasu’s Beloved, Senju Tobirama-sama, to come to our clan. He carries our Sun within him and is willing to share the blessing that is her graceful presence.”

His words echoed and more than one exclaims of shock, even of cheer, could be heard following it. The whispers grew louder and Tobirama felt pinned by the awe sent his way.

“He will walk among us and is escorted by his cousin, Senju Touka-san. They are acting here as representatives of their clan. This is to ensure the peaceful relations we have strived to achieve. Likewise, my brother and our clan heir, Uchiha Izuna-sama, has gone with the Senju to act as our representative in these talks. Uchiha Hikaku-san has joined him in this effort and we hope that it will increase the understanding the Senju have of us and our understanding of them.

“We are no longer enemies,” Madara continued over more exclaims and hushed murmurs. “And it means we can no longer act like we used to. We hope this will let each side see that there is more to us than our past and help us close the divide that hangs between us. You are welcome to approach them, even encouraged to do so.

“Tonight, I will leave you to reflect on this and I hope you will find it in yourself to give it, them, a chance.”

With that, Madara gestured at Tobirama and Touka and escorted them inside the house. The buzzing died with the door slamming shut and then Madara stormed past them, the unflappable expressing breaking under the fire blazing underneath.

Tobirama… followed him, Touka’s quiet yet deliberately audible steps coming close behind. He had to admit, he was growing more and more impressed with Madara. There was strength in him that reminded him of Hashirama, the kind that adamant force that came from being raised with the pressure of future on one’s shoulders and making harsh decisions way too young. Yet he was not completely unyielding, had just enough adaptivity to work through odds despite not liking them, something his brother sometimes still struggled with.

The crash made Tobirama pause in his steps and Touka raise her brows. The ensuing loud cursing and another crash made them continue. Tobirama went to stand in the doorway, looking at Madara swearing up a storm and a large thump could be heard from the hit a particularly large book made against the wall. The window chimed softly in reprimand.

“You knew,” Madara said, chest heaving. His eyes flashed with red and Tobirama forced himself not to avert the gaze as it locked into his, no matter how every inch of him screamed. “About Izuna and his stupid, _idiotic_ plan.”

Touka made a noise behind him, a little scoff, but it turned into a horrified groan when Tobirama admitted, “I did.” Then he frowned, confused, “But you didn’t.”

“No,” Madara said between his teeth. “I did not.”

“He did not return the favour then.” Tobirama entered the room, glancing around. It looked like an office, something he would rarely see Hashirama inhabit.

“Are you saying you were meeting with Uchiha Madara?” Touka interrupted, voice muffled. Her face was hidden in her hands. “Without supervision? _Tobirama_.”

“You knew I was meeting with someone.”

Touka’s head snapped back up with her temper. “But _Uchiha Madara_! If your brother knew—”

“Clearly he knows what that would have meant since Hashirama hasn’t come knocking down our walls,” Madara said dryly, not offended for once. His hands were massaging his temples as if warding away a headache. “Back to Izuna. When did you set up a meeting with him?”

“I did not,” Tobirama said calmly. He raised his hand to stop Madara’s protests and added, “I couldn’t catch your attention at the previous meeting and since I knew you had told Izuna, I sent him a sign to indicate the timing of the next one. When I sensed him there, I thought you hadn’t managed to come and had sent him in your stead to inform me. He implied similarly when I arrived but wished to… exchange ideas, I could say, so, despite my initial misgivings, I stayed.”

“And you just went to the person who has been trying to kill you since you were a brat yourself.” Touka looked at the ceiling, exasperated. “Your curiosity will kill you someday, cousin.”

Tobirama would have protested if he hadn’t come to the same conclusion years ago.

Madara swore again, muttering something about excuses and unauthorised missions in between his cussing. “And then you conspired with… this. Sending you here and him there.”

Tobirama huffed. “That was all him, I assure you. He had the whole plan concocted and he was putting it through regardless. There were holes concerning my brother and clan’s reactions which I helped him perfect; I have no doubt it would have ended badly otherwise. Yet the way he phrased it was more to convince Amaterasu than me…” And then, with a sigh, he grumbled, “And it worked. He clearly banked on it too.”

_It was a good plan_, Amaterasu insisted. _It got you and I here, to my people! We need to be here!_

“_I_ need to be with mine,” he barked, breaking the gaze between him and Madara to glare at a wall. “_We_ were _working_ on it.”

_Not fast enough! In that time, my people—_

“You waited for more than five decades, even longer I could argue. What could have a handful of more months meant on that scale?”

Amaterasu spat sparks at him, her celestial temper flaring, and the light in the room flickered. Tobirama remained unimpressed.

“Very mature.”

“As much as I love that you are proving my point,” Touka drawled. “I don’t need to find how well you can push a god’s buttons.” She had visibly calmed down and was now leaning against the doorframe. She quirked her brows at Madara. “So, what’s the plan now?”

Madara growled at her and waved his hand in Tobirama’s direction. “Why don’t you ask him?” he said snappishly. “Since he’s the one with it.”

Tobirama crossed his arms and his eyes narrowed. “I cannot say why your brother left you out of it but there is no need to take it on either of us.” Words frosty, he continued, “Izuna claimed you had lamented our clans’ inability to see eye to eye and implied that there are things that need a more… ‘divine’ intervention.”

His sharp eyes caught the slight pause in Madara’s movements, confirming his doubts.

“It was what convinced me,” he then said and Madara’s head swivelled in his direction. “I don’t have to like it to recognise it which is about the only reason I agreed to Izuna’s plan. Considering we are attempting a long-term alliance, whatever concerns the Uchiha concerns the Senju as well. Gods,” his lips twisted, “do not play by mortal rules.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Madara grunted. He blinked and seemed to finally realise he was holding and crushing a candleholder. He gentled his grip, but it was too late for it; the metal had bent until it could no longer hold anything bigger than a child’s finger. “Shit.”

“Was that valuable?”

“Just something I made as a kid,” came the easy dismissal as he dropped it back on the desk. “Nothing that can’t be replaced.” Madara pressed his fingers together and blew air through the triangle it made. The air inside the room warmed considerably and he seemed to somewhat deflate with it, calming down. “Can she tell us anything? Did she manage to figure anything out when walking through the compound?”

_Nothing I haven’t seen before. Even I need more time than that._

“She didn’t.”

“It was a long shot anyway.” Madara rolled his shoulders and the cracking could be heard on the other side of the room. “Are you hungry?”

Touka shoved at Tobirama and answered in his place. “I could eat.” Madara glanced at her, brows raised. She snorted in response. “Despite my reputation, I do not eat children, Uchiha or not.”

“How nice to hear. Perhaps we may then have something to sate your appetite.”

His cousin barked a laugh, her high ponytail swishing with the force of it. “Lead the way, Uchiha.”

“Madara,” he offered. “You’ll call half the clan to you if you continue like that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Madara made his way out the door and Touka followed him with one glance spared to Tobirama; he was glad she was willing to give him a chance. He waited, just a moment, before walking to the desk. He picked up the candleholder, examining it. Small hands had made it, a child’s hands… Madara’s hands. It was crude as if one of the first—if not _the_ first—he ever made. The adornments were painstakingly carved into it, moulded with bare minimum instructions—or instructions that were ignored in favour of stubborn artistic vision.

There was something so very human about it. His fingers caught in the mistakes that had been made and hastily corrected, bumped into lines that weren’t supposed to be where they were.

The sight of it, feel of it, made him smile.

Touka’s chakra spiked ever so slightly, calling for him, and so he set it back on the table and left the room, following the signatures to where he assumed the kitchen was. A seal on his arm burned lightly, only enough to catch Tobirama’s attention. He pressed his finger against it, sending his own pulsing chakra signal through. The stirring buds woven into the hems of his clothing calmed down and subsided back into mere seeds.

He shook his head as he entered the kitchen, lamenting the worry he was causing his brother. This was bound to happen, sooner or later; with Izuna’s meddling, sooner than Hashirama—or Tobirama himself—had liked.

But perhaps, he thought, sitting down and watching Madara rolling rice into balls and shoving fillings inside with what looked like years of expertise. Perhaps he should have put more faith into Izuna’s plan than he initially had. There was merit in it after all and Tobirama had acknowledged it before letting his self-satisfied rival leave the waterfall, even acknowledged it out loud during the negotiations.

Now they just had to wait and find out whether the gamble paid off.

As the odds weren’t set by Hashirama, they at least had some hope.


	11. Madara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope your 2020 has started off well :) Halfway through January already! I'm both on the team 'shit, already?' and 'just halfway?', depending on the day... or hour. Woops.

Madara sat at the kitchen table his head held in his hands. He stared forward past the mess that was his hair, the sight of the sink hazy with his senses trying to reach for someone that wasn’t there. The crackling mischief that was all Izuna was out of his grasp. For most of his life he had always been able to reach over and brush against the chakra that felt of family and love in the all-encompassing care the Uchiha were particularly well-known. Now? Now all he had left was the lingering memory of the retreating back and the cocky smirk that his sharingan had recorded and the rewind of which had seen Izuna’s self-confidence fade the moment he had thought he was out of Madara’s sight.

The little _idiot_.

He blinked the image away and rose with the chair clattering after him. He stomped over to the cold box—one of the things they could thank the seals for, the ones they had been able to trade with the Uzumaki prior to their alliance with the Senju—and fished out the leftover onigiri from yesterday. It wasn’t much but it was enough, he hoped, for his… guests.

Madara could feel Tobirama and Touka, knowing they had been awake for a while now, but only recently started stirring from the room he had assigned for them now. He had offered them a set of rooms, ones that were wall to wall, and while they had accepted each of them had known that only one would be used. Had he and Izuna been in the same situation, he wouldn’t have left him out of his sight.

But they weren’t.

_“What are your intentions towards my cousin?” _

The hiss Touka had sent his way when they had walked to the kitchen still tugged his mouth downwards. He remembered snapping at her, his temper spiking with barely disguised worry, but the exact words were lost to him. He only remembered the narrowed look, the slant of her sucked-in cheeks, and a toss of her hair as she replied:

_“I see.”_

What it was that she saw she wouldn’t say and he didn’t ask. Frankly, he didn’t care all that much. He had bigger things to think about than the regard of one woman, no matter how closely tied to the Senju main house. She had let up the moment Tobirama arrived, her stance relaxing deceptively and her scalding tongue throwing out barbs with their spikes dulled. It reminded Madara that she was a kunoichi first, one of those dedicated to her family. He could respect that, and he did.

But he would rather still have had Izuna and Hikaku safe and sound than have her and Tobirama here, no matter how advantageous the scheme had potential to be. He didn’t doubt Hashirama’s pledge to keep them safe—not with the insurance he had in his hands—but they were far, too far, for Madara to be sure of that.

As he set the table, he could see a vision of a boy with a bowl cut and awful attire pointing at the ugly depiction of what could have been a cluster of houses but had artistic limitations imposed upon it.

“A village for us all,” Madara whispered, speaking the words aloud that he had buried inside him for all those years. If only that was their reality; then he could feel Izuna close to him all the time and not have to worry about his continued existence nor his ignorance of such at this moment.

Izuna, like Madara, was an Uchiha through and through. He hoped his lightning-quick temper wouldn’t get him into much trouble. His brother was more composed of Madara, that much was true, which made him ideal to deal with those who tested Madara’s patience, but he also held a tongue that could spit sweet poison for others to swallow and choke on. The Uchiha were used to it; the Senju would not. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Izuna, but he couldn’t help but dread for the other shoe to fall.

He sent a quick prayer for Hikaku to keep him on a tight leash.

Madara had just finished with his chores when Tobirama and Touka arrived. A quick glance told just as much as he assumed; none of them had slept particularly well the previous night and they had remained in their room as long as they had out of politeness. There were dark rings around their eyes, ones that were particularly noticeable against Tobirama’s pale skin and the white of his fur set on his shoulders. Touka’s hair was undone, swinging low on her back. It was longer than Madara had thought, the bun she had having hidden the dark tresses well. It made her face look softer, less harsh lines and more feminine, now that they weren’t drawn up so tight. Their clothes were a little wrinkled and looked… worn. He blinked slowly.

“I can arrange you new robes,” Madara offered, pushing the onigiri towards the Senju. Touka yawned, her crass humour hiding somewhere under all that hair. She pulled one from the row and started munching it while rolling her shoulders and stretching her neck. “You did not prepare?”

Tobirama somehow looked less tired despite the circles, as if staying up from sunrise to sunrise was nothing new to him. “It would have looked bad,” he said, thanking Madara with a nod and reaching for one as well. He took a bite out of his onigiri and chewed before adding, “As if we had conspired behind your back.”

“Which you did,” Touka pointed out. She wrinkled her nose and pulled her robe tighter over her.

Tobirama shrugged, easily shifting the fur to Touka who instantly cuddled under it. Madara made a mental note to look at their heating later. “Even so, we don’t have to display it for the whole world to see.”

Madara chewed on his own rice ball, silently acknowledging the point. “I don’t know if I can find you any without the uchiwa though,” he warned them. Touka made a face at him but Tobirama merely shrugged.

“I assumed as much.”

They fell into a companionable silence and made quick work of the leftovers. He didn’t deny them the chance to clean the few dishes they had used as he needed to go through the closets. True to his words, there were no clothes he could find that didn’t have the uchiwa symbol, though, now that he thought of it, it might have to do with them belonging to someone in the clan head’s family. He made a mental note to ask someone to lend them more and not only because of the possible—though he doubted it—offensive to the Senjus’ sensibilities.

No, he actually had a surprisingly lot trouble with finding ones in the right sizes. Considering Tobirama’s somewhat similar built to Izuna, speed over bulk, he had thought there would be some to fit him but he had forgotten how much taller than his brother Tobirama was while being nowhere near as broad Madara. In addition, as Touka was a woman, he had to go through the ones that had been left behind by his mother. Still, with careful arranging and tying the excess away, they managed to make them fit well enough.

As he watched Tobirama help Touka with her robe, he quietly admired the way the dark Uchiha colours made his pale skin glow and the red details brought out his eyes. It was odd to see the uchiwa symbol on their backs—a compromise both of them agreed to when he presented their choices—but hopefully his clan would see it as them being accommodating to their customs. He and his clan had seen that the Senju rarely bothered to add their symbol anywhere but their armour after all.

When they slipped outside, the sun had come up to greet them, a welcome change from the clouds that had taken over for the past three days. Had Madara been superstitious, he would have called it an auspicious sign. He swallowed his yawn instead.

This time as they walked through the streets the general buzzing didn’t completely die out even though he could feel his clan’s eyes on them; close enough to watch and hear, far enough not to interact. He was walking them through what constituted as the market—there were less stands now as they were trying to make-do with as little as they could—when a young woman approached them with single-minded focus. Madara recognised her as Eri, one of the few Uchiha who had dedicated themselves to healing rather than the more destructive jutsu that usually spellbound their fiery nature. She bowed to Madara, sharing obligatory pleasantries, all the while eyeing Tobirama surreptitiously.

Madara took the hint and gestured at the Senju.

“Eri, this is Senju Tobirama and Senju Touka. Tobirama-san, Touka-san, this is Uchiha Eri. She is one of the most invaluable members of my clan.”

“Madara-sama is too kind,” she demurred, bowing to them as well. Tobirama and Touka returned the gesture. Madara took a careful step back when she struck up a conversation about healing with them, gently needling about the techniques the Senju were famous for. It was all very carefully arranged, he thought, and wondered who had the idea of sending her to break the ice. Having no battlefield experience herself and thus living with smaller grudge than most, she was the ideal person to come forward. Had Izuna perhaps made some queries beforehand?

The thought was quickly dismissed when Eri bluntly asked, “Do you think you could have a look on a patient? She was hit with the travelling sickness but her recovery has been delayed by symptoms we haven’t been able to locate.”

Madara hid his huff of amusement. He should have known.

Tobirama merely blinked. “My brother is the more gifted one of us in the healing arts,” he stated, “but should your clan head so allow, I have similar experience in pinpointing the causes while my execution is not as flawless.”

Eri seemingly examined his sincerity which she appeared to find no flaws at. She turned to Madara, her expectation for him to comply written on her face. He raised his hands in surrender.

“My clan’s wellbeing above everything else,” he said. Eri bowed her thanks and took the helm to lead them to the sickbay. With a glance sent Madara’s way, Tobirama stepped next to her and started asking questions about the patient’s condition. Touka, in turn, fell back to let him go past her and took her place next to Madara.

As they walked, it struck Madara by how natural it felt, walking with someone he might have crossed his blades before without a second thought. By the look on Touka’s face, she seemed to find it funny.

“Glad to see you aren’t all religious fanatics,” she murmured softly, quietly enough that only Madara was able to pick up her words. He bristled.

“We aren’t _fanatics_!” he hissed, his indignation from yesterday returning in a flash and drowning any lingering fatigue. “Just because we have a healthy dose of respect for higher powers doesn’t make us… us…!”

The _witch_ snorted. “Oh, keep your shirt on, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Madara instantly frowned, glancing down. Touka burst out cackling, drawing the attention of all nearby Uchiha. Even Tobirama looked back, his brows raised, but she waved him off with a snicker.

“It’s a saying,” she said when she finally calmed down enough to answer. “But you can’t say the last few weeks haven’t been concerning your goddess and her whims.”

“What about you then?” Madara challenged. “Don’t you have any to show your respects to?”

“Oh, sure. We thank the nature for what it provides and the rains it blesses us.”

That… sounded odd. “You don’t pray to any god?”

“The Senju are not religious,” Touka said. “Superstitious, sure, but not religious. We give our offerings to the wild but don’t follow a particular god.”

Madara squinted at her. “But wasn’t it your own priest who identified Tobirama’s markings?”

“He said that?” Touka asked, glancing at her cousin before shaking her head. She deliberately slowed her pace a notch and Madara followed her cue. “Of course he did, he would consider him ‘ours’ if only by formality. And yes, he did. The priest came with Butsuma’s second wife.”

“Second?” Madara murmured. “We didn’t know he was married twice.”

“Most didn’t, she… didn’t really make a number of herself.” Touka grimaced, sending one more look in Tobirama’s direction before continuing with a low tone. “It’s not a secret, but Hashirama and Tobirama’s mother died soon after giving birth to their third brother, Kawarama. If there was one thing good about Butsuma, it was that he was loyal; he didn’t want to get married again, but Rurihime-sama’s family—they were merchants from the eastern river valleys—provided us with trade connections that we couldn’t refuse lest they went to you next. Thus he remarried and with her came the priest her family provided.”

A slight smile caressed her features and softened them enough for Madara to see similarity between her and Tobirama’s gentle show of joy. “She gave birth to only one son but he was adored twice as much. Itama was always attempting to emulate his older brothers but his nature was far too gentle for the war.” The smile soon died. “She took her own life after his death. She was already unhappy, having lived most of her life in comforts we couldn’t afford and isolating herself in the little she had taken with her, and it drove her over the edge.

“To answer your questions, yes, it was the priest who saw them as they were and sent for another for confirmation. Before you ask, he is dead as well; he was being escorted back to the valley, but the group was ambushed. No one survived.”

She eyed him. “We could never confirm it, but we suspected your clan did it. It’s the reason most of the families there refuse to trade with you.”

Madara yet again cursed his father’s policies. They were proving to still be damaging, even years after his death. “I apologise for the grief that caused.”

“Don’t.” Touka shook her head. “Butsuma would have killed him himself had it not upset his in-laws.” Her lips twitched. “So would have many, myself included. Weaselly little man, always calling us savages and hiding behind his prayers. I think it was the only time Butsuma was glad your clan ever existed. He hated that man.”

That didn’t make Madara any less unhappy. He glanced at his surroundings and picked up his pace. Touka immediately matched it and he gestured at the building where Eri and Tobirama had just disappeared into.

“Do you want to go in?” he asked more for formality’s sake than anything else; he was going in regardless of her answer and dragging her with him.

“I’m not leaving my cousin alone yet,” she said. They eventually found Eri and Tobirama crowding over a young girl barely over toddlerhood.

“…hasn’t made a difference,” Eri said. She leaned over and wiped the girl’s sweaty brows with a clean towel.

“And you are certain she hasn’t managed to nick herself on any poison or digested anything she shouldn’t have?” Tobirama asked, picking up her wrist and examining it.

“Not any we are familiar with and considering she hasn’t yet gone outside our walls…”

Tobirama inclined his head in his thoughts. He gently set the girl’s hand back down, placing his hands over her chest and with a look asking for permission to open her shirt. Eri waved her hand, washing her towel. He opened the buttons with nimble fingers and Madara was treated to a sight of purple and black bruises all over her little body.

He poked and prodded her a little but then, finally, settled back with a sigh of relief. “It’s nothing life-threatening. Yet. She’s just nutrient deficit.”

Madara forced himself to stay still although he wanted to scream.

“Are you sure?” Eri asked, her doubt practically visible in her tone. “Because we have treated malnutrition before and it doesn’t match Sakie’s other symptoms.”

“It’s not malnutrition per se.” Tobirama reached over and traced the girl’s skin. “If you look at here, her pallor’s a bit off and she bruises easily. I think the fact she was sick for that long—you said three weeks with two more spent with the early symptoms, didn’t you?—is messing with the absorption of necessary nutrients. Has she been able to stomach meat in a while?”

“No,” the woman admitted. “Mostly broths; solids have come up soon after.”

“Then she’s probably lacking in iron which has caused a particular chain reaction in her system. If meats are off-limits, try adding beans or spinach to her diet, they are easy enough to make into paste or soup. That’s our usual procedure in these situations.”

“That simple…” Eri muttered. She scowled. “I can’t believe it.”

“I could be wrong,” Tobirama admitted. “I don’t think I am, but I could be. Considering you said that there was no foul play involved, this is the only thing I can think of.”

“We’ll try it then, we should have beans left... I am going to whack Mayuka on her ears for this!” she promised, dark look in her eyes. She bowed to Tobirama. “Thank you for your help, Tobirama-sama.”

He only shook his head. “I wouldn’t leave a child to suffer if I can avoid it.”

Touka snorted, drawing attention to herself. “That’s certainly part of the truth, cousin,” she drawled. “You big softy.”

“Touka!” Tobirama snapped warningly. She only rolled her eyes, making what looked like a rude gesture with her hand.

“What, is that supposed to be a big secret now?” She turned to Madara, lips curling viciously. “He adores kids. Be careful or when we leave you’ll have them waddle after him like lost ducklings.”

Tobirama flicked his finger at her and she quickly dodged, a stream of water hitting the floor behind her with a wet splash. She stuck her tongue at him.

“Better luck next time!”

He shot another stream at her and she ran out the door, the cackles echoing in the room the only evidence she ever was there. He scowled, murmuring, “Shut up,” quietly to himself.

“I didn’t say anything… yet,” Eri said. She pointed her finger at him. “But if you start messing around the sick ward, I will have to ask you to leave, Amaterasu’s Beloved or no.”

Madara stifled his own laugh at Tobirama’s affronted look before did they take their leave. Touka was nowhere to be seen but Madara could feel her a couple of houses away, surrounded by a group of women Madara knew for a fact had grudgingly admired her skill with a blade.

“She’s going to be fine,” he said when Tobirama’s eyes didn’t leave her direction. He guided him away back towards the market; it was almost lunch time and he hoped Satsuki-san had had some inarizushi made for today.

“Of course she will,” came the immediately answer but it took a moment longer before his head was looking back towards where they were walking to. “She always is.”

They stopped for a couple of times to exchange pleasantries when a few select Uchiha came to talk to Madara in the guise of seeing Tobirama closer but none struck up a conversation with him. All in all, Tobirama seemed more amused by the overtures than anything else.

“They do realise I know what they are doing, don’t they?”

“At this point I wouldn’t be so sure,” Madara grunted. A scuffle between two kids caused one of them to trip on the road but Madara just snatched him back up and sent him barrel back into his friend. He noticed the stand he had been looking for, the elderly woman manning it bustling about. “Satsuki-san!”

“Mada-chan!” the woman chirped and Madara grimaced. “I was just thinking about you!”

“You say that every time.”

“And it is true each time.” The smile spread on her face and then she noticed his companion. Her eyes widened momentarily, deepening the wrinkles on her face, and she bowed deep, deeper than anyone before her. “Senju-sama.”

Tobirama looked taken aback and at a loss for words. “Please, stand up. I am not my brother.”

“You are housing our goddess,” Satsuki said, straightening up but her head kept low. “It deserves our gratitude that she has been returned to us by yourself.”

“You were the ones who did the ritual.”

“Ah, but you were the one who brought her to us.” The woman turned around and started going through her fares. She quickly plated Madara’s favourites on one but paused, hand hovering over another. “What do you favour?”

When Tobirama didn’t instantly answer and knowing how impatient and blabbermouthed Satsuki could get, Madara cleared his throat. “Satsuki-san is one of our best chefs. She’s asking what you would like to eat.”

“I—see. Fish, if you have any,” Tobirama said. Immediately the plate was filled with different types of sushi and thrusted into his hands.

“I hope you enjoy, Senju-sama,” Satsuki said and bowed again. “May Amaterasu’s light shine upon you.”

“…May your fires never burn the hand that calls upon them,” came the flummoxed reply, clearly told to say the words, and Satsuki’s face was lit up by a bright smile. She reached over and gave Madara his own.

“On the house!”

Madara snorted and shoved enough coins to cover three people’s meals into her hand. “No deal. Eat your own lunch.”

Satsuki blew him a kiss and sampled her own cooking with a grin on her face. She chatted with them, more to Madara than Tobirama, teasing the former and demurring when asking the latter anything. When they finally left, the sun had started climbing down.

“She was… happy,” Tobirama said when they started making their way back towards Madara and Izuna’s house. “Are we not going to the shrine today?”

“We can visit them tomorrow.” Madara spread his senses, finding Touka still surrounded by the same gaggle of women, only grown in number and located in the general area of the training grounds. “Do we need to rescue your cousin?”

“She enjoys a good challenge.” When Madara squinted at him, Tobirama snorted. “She’ll manage.”

“Somehow I do not doubt that.”

The small smile that spread on Tobirama’s face and the ease of his steps as he glanced yet again towards Touka’s direction made Madara’s chest tighten. When he looked back forward, the feeling didn’t let up when he recognised the figure scaling the walls of his home. The excited waving forced a groan from him and Tobirama blinked at him curiously before realising what had made him despair.

The smile on Kagami’s face rivalled the sun behind them.

“Hi!”


	12. Tobirama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, so many people love Kagami! I can't say I'm not one of them either, so there you go! The first meeting... and some extra.

“Kagami!” Madara bellowed from beside Tobirama, marching forward with determined but hasty strides. “Get down there before you hurt yourself!”

“Madara-sama,” the child chirped, now hanging upside down above the porch. “I—”

“Now!”

The boy called Kagami blinked and looked up. The only thing holding him up were his bent knees. “Um.”

Madara let out an angry huff, clearly mumbling under his breath. “Just—wait a second. We don’t need you to become stuck.”

“Um.”

Tobirama watched as Madara swore again, sticking himself to the wall with chakra, and snatching the boy from where he, indeed, had been stuck. “You little monkey, how many times has Hikaku told you to _be_ _careful_?”

“Eh,” Kagami said, now hanging on Madara’s extended arm. “I forgot.”

Madara’s expression grew pinched. He shook the kid who only grinned at the makeshift swing he was on. “Don’t get smart with me!”

“But auntie and Hikaku-nii say I’m supposed to be smart!”

“After your stunts?”

“Well, yeah—”

“_That doesn’t mean what you think it does_!”

Madara had, unfortunately, already lost his attention and Tobirama saw the moment the kid gave all his attention span to him. “Hi!” Kagami chirped again. “I like your eyes. Are you the Blessed?”

Tobirama started forward again, tracing the steps Madara had quickly made to rescue the apparent local rascal. Akane would love him. Even Amaterasu was cooing. “In a manner of speaking,” he said, stopping a few feet away. The kid had curly black hair, a little uncharacteristic compared to the mostly straight—if also wild in Madara’s case—manes. “I am.”

Kagami stared at him some more—he had an adorable gap between his front teeth—when he leaned back to give Madara a pout. “You lied!” he accused. “He’s plenty more than just pretty! And his hair is shinier than yours!”

Madara spluttered and, also uncharacteristically of him, Tobirama felt heat travel up his neck. Ignoring the implications and despite knowing the answer already, he asked, “And what is your name?”

The boy perked up. “I’m Kagami!” he chirped. “Uchiha Kagami!”

Tobirama nodded solemnly and offered him his hand. “Nice to meet you. You can call me Tobirama.”

The kid didn’t even hesitate before reaching over, almost falling from Madara’s arms in his hurry, and shook it enthusiastically. “They called you a troll,” he continued cheerfully. “Because you are a Senju. But I knew Amaterasu-sama wouldn’t choose a troll to be hers. She’s a goddess and a goddess should have the best. Are you the best?”

_Of course I should and always will_, Amaterasu huffed like a cat, amused and her presence vibrating with joy, the way she often was when Tobirama spent time with the Senju children.

“Best at what?” Tobirama asked. He had become rather good at ignoring the second voice within him. Madara grunted at all the wriggling and finally let the kid down. He immediately latched onto Tobirama’s arm that he still hadn’t let go of.

“Uh.” Kagami blinked rapidly. “I don’t know. Everything?”

“No one can be best at everything.” Tobirama sat on his hunches so he was more or less on Kagami’s eyelevel. “We are no gods ourselves and even they have their limits. We can be good at most, even best at some, but not all.”

“Then what _are_ you best at?”

Tobirama could feel Madara’s chakra pipe up, his curious still better hidden than Kagami’s open wonder. “I have spent plenty of time perfecting my chakra control and water jutsus. I also like to create new ones and dabble in many other fields.”

“That says nothing,” the kid pouted.

“It says plenty if you listen.”

“But I am listening!”

Tobirama forced himself not to smile outwardly at the annoyed look sent his way. Children. Always so impatient. “Then what are you best at?”

Kagami perked up. “I am good at making myself unnoticed!” he said proudly. Madara quickly turned his head around, his shoulders shaking. The way Kagami had his back on him made sure he didn’t notice. Amaterasu cooed again, her presence giving off the sense of her leaning forward. Tobirama supposed it might have been a good thing, that he could neither see nor hear either.

“That is an excellent skill.” He reached over and patted Kagami’s shoulder. The boy practically beamed. “Do you want to be a shinobi when you grow up?”

“Yes!” he said. “I want to be a ninja like—” His words stuttered to a stop, and he shifted on his feet. “Like my mom.”

Ah.

Madara had his hawk-like eyes back on Kagami, amusement gone, and with a sharp nod and hand signs for an ‘S’ and a ‘battle’ Tobirama got the confirmation he had looked for. “I am sorry.”

But Kagami shook his head. “’s not your fault,” he mumbled. Then his shoulders stiffened and his head snapped back up. “But she was amazing and I am going to be amazing like her,” he declared. “And she protected the clan! And-and she was kind and a good cook and she always gave me the best bite and her fireball was big, bigger than Izuna-sama’s!”

Not a surprise, considering his lightning nature, but Tobirama only nodded. “Then she sounds like a good person to emulate. I am sure she would be proud of you and be honoured for you to look up to her the way you do.”

Kagami grew quiet again. His grip on Tobirama’s arm tightened. “Do…” he started, wavered, and then blurted out, “Do you think so? Do you really, really think so?” Before Tobirama could do more than blink, Kagami added, “Did Amaterasu-sama say so? Did she see her?”

_Oh, my little one_, Amaterasu said sadly. She reached past the limits of Tobirama’s body, a hand made of wispy light caressing the child’s cheek.

“Amaterasu sees all the world engulfed in light,” Tobirama said. He lifted Kagami into his arms, finding him worryingly thin. “I am sure she was with her when she passed.”

“But then…” Tobirama waited for Kagami to continue but, after a beat, it became apparent that the only thing he was getting out of him was a troubled expression and a lip being gnawed at. Tobirama shifted his grip on the boy. He met Madara’s eyes and the man jerked his head towards the house, making a rapid set of hand signs. Tobirama tilted his head in agreement and then jostled the kid lightly, gaining his attention.

“Have you eaten lunch yet?”

“I—auntie gave me some, yeah.”

“Would you like to join us, perhaps share dinner later? There are a few things we need to go through and another set of eyes would be lovely.”

Kagami leaned back. “I can help?” he demanded. “Auntie never lets me help. Says I make a mess of everything in the kitchen.”

“Good thing we are not talking about the kitchen then,” Madara said, finally breaking his self-imposed silence. “Since you have time to climb my walls, you can look through Hikaku’s handwriting to me. I swear he makes it difficult to read on purpose.”

Kagami’s brows knitted together. “But Hikaku-nii’s characters are clear.” The doubt in his voice was strong. “How come Madara-sama can’t read them?”

“Because, on the inside, Hikaku is just as much of a little shit as you.” And then Madara ruffled the already tousled hair and the curls bounced when he withdrew his hand from the writhing kid. Had Tobirama any less experience in handling shinobi—and children of shinobi, especially—he might have had trouble with keeping the child upright and not drop him. As it was, he only corrected his grip once. “And only someone as familiar with him as you could ever hope to figure out what he was saying.”

The boy pouted at his clan head but his chest also puffed up. “I can read them for you then!” he declared. “Since Madara-sama can’t do something, I, the great Kagami, will help you!”

“Yes, yes. And since I _know_ someone has been inside the house already, I don’t think I need to tell you where to meet us while we get tea, do I?” When Kagami made a noise of protest, Madara added, “I wouldn’t like telling Madoka you stepped into the kitchen.”

The boy considered that for a minute but then, reluctantly, tugged at Tobirama to let him down. He pointed at Madara. “You are mean.”

Madara’s brows rose, the movement exaggerated. “Do I need to tell her you were inside my house without permission too?”

Kagami paled and quickly shook his head, incriminating himself in the process. He didn’t even seem to realise it. Madara nodded, every trace of his amusement hidden behind the collar of his shirt. “Then off you go. We’ll come up in a moment. Maybe we will have some snacks too.”

Perking up with the mentioned treats, the boy dashed inside the house, tugging his shoes off quickly and bowing his respects, before rushing upstairs. Madara shook his head and waited for Tobirama to enter as well.

When he knew Kagami was far enough not to hear them, Tobirama asked in a lower voice, “Last battle?”

Madara grimaced and nodded. “One of them.” They made their way to the kitchen and he put the water to boil. “We found her by the forest, just behind the shrubbery.”

Tobirama didn’t answer nor apologise and Madara didn’t ask for them either. They both knew what the war wrought; they both had seen it within their own, families lost and broken by the mindless hate.

“He has an aunt?”

“A friend of his mother’s.”

“His father?”

Madara took out the cups. His answer was short. “We don’t know.”

“Ah.”

That raised more questions, rather awful ones at that, but it wasn’t Tobirama’s business. At least his mother hadn’t, seemingly, given that burden onto her son’s shoulders. He felt a tug and an emptiness he had only felt once or twice before as Amaterasu slid from inside him and glided upstairs after the child, unconsciously mimicking Kagami’s youth. He watched her go and, when he turned back, saw Madara watch him.

“She went to look after him.”

“She?” Madara scowled briefly before his eyes widened. “Amaterasu?” Tobirama inclined his head. Madara’s head turned as he followed the invisible trail towards the stairs. “She can do that?”

“When she wishes to.”

“I see…” The pot whistled and Madara took it off the heat. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Given her higher status in, well, everything, Tobirama had to agree. “She likes him. Kagami.”

“Did she say something?”

“She didn’t need to.”

Something in Madara eased. He pulled out the almost empty bag of leaves. Tobirama eyed him and the kitchen with a new, keen understanding. “He is easy to like.”

“Children usually are.”

“You like them?”

“Children?”

Madara nodded, peering past his mess of hair to where Tobirama was waiting by the table, curious and expectant. Seeing no reason to lie, especially after Touka, Tobirama replied, “Yes. They have a curiosity and eagerness to learn that adults often lack.”

Tobirama watched as Madara took in his answer. He turned around, hiding his face as he busied himself with the tea. “The reality is a harsh teacher.”

“Indeed it is.” Tobirama followed the star that was Amaterasu and the flicker that was Kagami in what he knew was Madara’s study. He was bouncing through a set of a routine, katas, if Tobirama wasn’t mistaken. “If there was peace… I wouldn’t mind it, if it was for the children.”

Madara paused. “Just the children?” he asked mildly, too mildly. Tobirama crossed his arms and looked out the window.

“It is too late for most of us.”

The horrors, the deaths, they were all soldiers in blood and fate. They would never be truly clean ever again, even if the hate and anger was weaned from their souls. There was still hope for those who had not experienced the unfairness of the world, not the way they had when barely able to walk.

“Do you really believe that?”

The question was reminiscent of Hashirama and the late night talks they had while watching the clouds sail across the starry skies, an opened bottle of sake shared between them. It had been a solemn time with four cups between them and only two of them touched.

“We could grow to enjoy it too, I suppose. There is comfort in the idea that we would not need to lie awake at night and fear for our safety.” He tilted his head and deliberately did not look in Madara’s direction. “Nor that our stores would empty out on us.”

The familiar clacks of cups stilled. “You noticed.” There was more tenseness in those two words than had been during the whole day.

“I did.”

The lack of meat in their diet, the overabundance of rice compared to the rest of the offerings, ribs he could feel when lifting Kagami, the cabinets that at glance seemed full but were lacking the moment he looked past the jars… The way Tobirama had followed Izuna in case of trickery after their meeting, reaching the merchant Tobirama knew most commonly treated with food items.

There were too many signs not to take note.

“That’s why you performed the ritual, didn’t you,” Tobirama questioned though it was more a statement. The issue had bothered him and no reasoning given prior had truly satisfied him; just saying they ‘had no other choice’ did nothing to quell his curiosity. Considering the predicament it had landed him in, he felt owed that much.

“Yes.”

The answer, short, unyielding and unapologetic as it was, gave away more than Madara maybe intended to. Or perhaps Tobirama had come to know Madara better than he had thought himself… and that he could relate. They hadn’t truly suffered from hunger, the Senju that is, not after Tobirama’s early childhood at least, which is more than many others could claim. Their careful cultivation of their environment, ties to their neighbours, and lately the gift of the nature that was mokuton ensured that. There had been times when they had come close, before Butsuma’s second marriage and before Hashirama’s talents bloomed, but they had managed.

The Uchiha did not have the same luck and they had suffered for it… and so had their leader for them. Tobirama couldn’t help but admire Madara’s perseverance in the face of the odds and how he still held the love of his people even after all the hardships as the day had shown him.

“I understand.”

Madara whirled around, his shoulders pulled back. Tobirama met him on equal ground, automatically hanging his arms now loose at his side.

“Do you?” The whisper was soft, the low tones a caress in the growing shadows; ready to defend or attack depending on the response. “Do you really?”

Tobirama lifted his chin, never once breaking eye contact, even when there was a distracting pulse within all the black. His chakra swirled in his veins. “Should those I call mine suffer, I would drown the world.”

Had Amaterasu not come to him when she did all those years ago, they would not be here and not only because of the ritual. Tobirama knew himself, enough to know that his anger was not rational, not when it burst into flames and fed the ice inside. There were times he could direct it, feed the unfathomable depths until they swallowed the threat—_Itama, I’m sorry_—yet all the same carrying within itself a chance he would willingly lose himself to it.

“Drown… huh,” Madara murmured. He fell back, fingers drumming the counter. “That’s funny.”

Tobirama didn’t have time to ask what he found so ridiculous about his statement nor what his problem had been when he found glittering white in the corner of his eye and turned to find Amaterasu there. She had her arms crossed and was tapping the floor impatiently.

_Kagami is hungry_, she ordered. _Snacks. Now._

“Amaterasu demands refreshments,” Tobirama parroted, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He found Madara looking at him questioningly. “For Kagami,” he clarified.

The Uchiha nodded slowly once. “We have… senbei.”

_Rice crackers? Anything else? He’s a growing boy!_

“Quiet, you. Don’t be rude.”

_Rude, he says! Rude!_

“I can go back to ignoring you. You didn’t like that all that much last time, did you?”

_As if you can,_ the goddess snorted._ You’ll cave in anyway sooner or later!_

Tobirama narrowed his eyes at her and hissed, “Want to bet? I’m not Hashirama.”

Amaterasu glared at him in return and stuck her tongue at him. _Food. For. Kagami, _she said slowly. _Now_.

Tobirama heaved a sigh, mouthing pleas for strength at the ceiling, and then turned back to Madara. “Is the tea ready?”

Madara blinked at him again. “I—yes.”

“Good. Give it to me and bring the senbei. She’s getting exhausting again.”

Amaterasu harrumphed and flounced back upstairs though there was a victorious skip in her step. Good riddance, Tobirama thought spitefully. He took the teapot Madara offered him and together they started making their way to his office.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that,” Madara confessed, face distorted slightly. Tobirama exhaled slowly, gathering his patience.

“You aren’t the only one.”

“What is it like? Living with her?”

“It’s…” Tobirama had to think of it a minute. He had been so swept away with everything, getting used to the ever-changing situation, that he had had barely any time for just himself. In fact, these few minutes had been the first he had spent without her presence watching over him. It was… freeing, to be just himself for a minute again and nothing else, with no one’s expectations on his shoulders but his own. “She is a lot to take in. She is used to getting her own way, thinking of herself and her own first and foremost which is not essentially… bad. But it is selfish of her to think of her way as the only right way to proceed.” Tobirama sighed and then added, “Yet she is also kind even in her moments of cruelty. It is… a novel experience.”

“You did say you wouldn’t have taken Izuna’s route.” Despite that meaning that it would have kept Amaterasu away from her people, Madara didn’t sound judging; the lack of any of the sort piqued Tobirama’s curiosity. Yet when Tobirama glanced at him, Madara kept his head forward, looking at the open door they could both hear Kagami’s uneven steps. Tobirama stopped when Madara did, just a few strides shy of the doorway.

“No, I wouldn’t have. I would have preferred to stay with my clan and done this so there wouldn’t be a place for error.” The way clans usually built rapport with each other, slow and steady, especially ones with such bloody history between them as theirs; a lot was hanging on just the hope that Amaterasu’s gamble would prevail and Tobirama had never liked playing with the lives of his people. He was still a Senju, no matter how the Uchiha’s guardian deity rested within him; blinded to the plight of his in the face of hers, refusing to concede despite appearing to see his point.

“I understand.”

Tobirama raised his brows, slight curl to his lips. “Do you?” he asked, repeating Madara’s words back at him. “Do you really?”

Madara snorted. He shoved Tobirama with his shoulder, walking in with more confidence than should be legal. “Brat! Take a break. We have senbei.”

“Oh!” Kagami scurried to his side, eyeing the plate. “Can I take one? Or two? Or—”

“I just told you to rest. Take as many as you want but only so many that you have space for dinner later.”

“Yes, Madara-sama!” The boy hurriedly took the plate and rushed to set it on the desk. Tobirama carried the pot of tea there as well, setting it down with the cups Madara had carried. They listened to Kagami chatter though Tobirama’s mind wandered away, watching the way Amaterasu was petting the unruly hair on the child’s head.

_He is precious_, she said quietly. _Earnest. Gentle. His mother did a wonderful job with him._

Tobirama moved a little, not enough to draw attention of any but the one who had spoken to him. He mouthed to her, ‘Did you see her?’

_No, my sight was already blinded by the time she was taken. I could ask the spirits if they knew of her but she has already been sent to the Pure Lands._

Tobirama nodded slightly. He saw Madara shift so he shook his head, motioning towards the air above Kagami. He paused when he saw Amaterasu frown, pulling what looked like a faint wisp of gnarled shadows from Kagami’s back, unable to make sense of what he was seeing. The boy’s eyes fluttered and his breath caught. Madara was immediately at his side, hand pressing on his shoulder as he dropped to his knees.

“Kagami?”

“It’s, ah—” Kagami rubbed his eyes. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

_It’s not nothing_, Amaterasu declared. The shadows dissipated in her grip and she attempted to catch them but to no avail. _That was—but it can’t be._

“What is it, Amaterasu?” Tobirama asked quietly. The air was instantly electrified and two sets of dark eyes were watching his every move. He kneeled with one smooth if slow movement, now on the same level as them.

_Ask him. I need to know—his mother. What happened to his mother exactly?_

He grimaced but for once did not argue; her urgency made the hairs rise on his skin.

“Madara.”

Madara tilted his head, hand unconsciously tightening on Kagami’s shoulder, and Tobirama knew there was no way to ask it delicately. He cast his apology into the air and said, “Do you know anything about the death of Kagami’s mother?”

“What?!” Madara demanded and the air around his crackled with sudden heat. “What the hell are you—?!”

“_Amaterasu_ wants to know,” he cut the rant before it could start but Madara’s chakra only spiked higher. He gritted his teeth, preparing for the oncoming onslaught. He should have just pulled Madara out but he didn’t think he would—

“_You_ were the ones who killed her! I should be asking _you_ that, the hell we would know! And now in front of her son—"

“Prior to that! There was something—"

“I do.”

That gave them both a pause and their heads whipped to stare at the boy who had spoken. Kagami grew smaller under their gazes, his fourth cracker crumbling in his hands. He finally looked up, expression solemn mixed with shame and regret, heartbreak evident in his voice as he continued.

“Madara-sama is wrong. The Senju didn’t kill my mom… I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(


	13. Madara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you know your Naruto lore, haha. Enjoy!

Madara gaped. For five long seconds he could do nothing but let his jaw hang somewhere near the floor, Kagami’s words taking him by complete surprise. The confused and concerned expression Tobirama wore didn’t help either and they exchanged a dumbfounded look over Kagami’s head. When his brain finally caught up, he shook himself from his shock and tightened his grip on Kagami’s shoulder.

“What on earth are you jabbering about?” Madara demanded. “You were nowhere near the battlefield!”

The boy shifted on his feet. “…I snuck out.”

“_What_?!”

“I _finally_ learned how to make a katon,” Kagami said, gnawing at his lip. His hands were writhing where he was holding them above his stomach. “And I can hit the target eight times out of ten with a kunai! Mom said I was like a shinobi now and I thought I could…” The boy mumbled the rest to his collar. It sounded suspiciously like ‘help’.

Madara wasn’t sure what sort of noise that drew from him but Kagami’s head snapped up and the terrified look of his froze Madara’s insides. “I didn’t mean to!” Kagami insisted. “But mom was worried and she thought there was-was something weird going on and I just wanted to help! I followed her and she saw me and then it almost, maybe, saw me and I just, mom told me to run—”

“It,” Tobirama said the moment Madara’s own focus narrowed on the word. “What do you mean by ‘it’?”

“It…” Kagami squirmed and Madara eased his grip, making it less a cage and more a comfort. “It looked like a man but not. ‘S skin was all black, not dark like the merchants, but black and it had yellow eyes like a cat! Mom, she was fighting it and I just—it was getting closer to her and I made a katon and she—she—” Kagami hiccupped.

Madara immediately sat down from his crouch and pulled the shaking boy to him. There was an iron grip on his shirt a moment later and an unmistakable wet patch on his chest. Despite his self-assured move, Madara was panicking on the inside. He had no experience with crying kids. Izuna had always been yelling his frustrations and hacking away his misery, the same as Madara. Theirs was a violent grief. Crying, on the other hand? He had only seen mothers hug their snivelling brats, cooing over their tears with nonsensical murmurs and somehow managing to calm their whining. He had no idea how to work that out. What was he supposed to say in this situation? ‘There, there?’ Wasn’t there any more condescending way to comfort someone? Especially someone who had just _lost his mother_? And, apparently, _seen it happen_?

Tobirama lowered himself next to them and Madara couldn’t help the way he desperately looked towards him for advice. The man’s focus was not on him, however, the red gaze lost in the back of the curly haired head.

“Kagami.”

The boy stiffened in Madara’s arms had him wanting to snap at Tobirama for daring to scare the boy, immediately contradicting his own demand for help, but he managed to swallow his initial reaction though it did feel like lead in his belly. Tobirama glanced at Madara warily and, seeing there were no protests coming, gently reached to pet Kagami’s hair.

“Kagami, look at me,” Tobirama said. When no one moved, he added, “Please.”

Kagami quivered but reluctantly turned around enough that half of his face was visible. The little Madara could see of him was all red cheeks and nose and a snot trail connecting them until Kagami wiped it on his sleeve. For some reason, for all the interest Kagami had shown in Tobirama, he also seemed very afraid of him right now. The concentration had made Tobirama’s face fall into severe lines but the harsh look was brushed away by the low, soothing tone of his voice.

“It is not your fault.”

“But I—!”

“Your mother protected you, did she not?” Kagami made a wounded noise at the statement but Tobirama’s gentle touches never halted. “She wanted you to survive and so she made her choice. It was not your fault.”

“But…” The boy choked on his words. “If I wasn’t there—”

“—she might have survived?” Tobirama only frowned softly, almost sorrowfully. “Perhaps. It is a question we all ask ourselves when we survive and someone else does not. ‘What ifs’, however, do nothing but cause us pain and torture that those who have passed would never wish upon our shoulders.”

Kagami sniffed, his snot-filled nose making an ugly sound. Madara reached into his sleeve and tugged free a layer to use as a rag. He held it out for Kagami to blow his nose on which he did with shaking limbs.

“Amaterasu called that being ‘Zetsu’.”

_Zetsu_.

Madara grit his teeth to keep his temper in check. He now had a name. He would kill Mika’s murderer and _enjoy_ it. Rip its skin off little by little so it could do nothing but _scream_—

“Tongue,” Kagami murmured, twisting the dirty rag in his hands. “A tongue of what?”

“An enemy your mother discovered,” Tobirama said, combing the dark curls. “She was a good woman and unfortunately the enemy discovered that. Do not blame yourself for her passing; because of you we now know of her indispensable efforts. She protected you, our future.

“Amaterasu thanks you.”

Kagami’s breath hitched and he threw himself into Tobirama’s lap. Madara’s arms were frozen in the air, half in an attempt to catch the child, half unsure of what he was supposed to do now. The heart-breaking cries filled the room and Madara could sense the despair, relief, and grief battling each other within the whirlwind that was Kagami’s untrained and unhidden chakra.

Tobirama slid his hands up and down the child’s stiff and shaking spine in a soothing circle and the look on his face was grim when he met Madara’s gaze over Kagami’s head. Madara felt his mood dim even further.

They had their work cut out for them.

***

Only when Kagami cried himself to sleep, his chakra finally calming down with his exhaustion dragging him unconscious, did Madara spoke. He kept his tone low, mindful of the child with tear tracks flowing down his cheeks even asleep as he fretfully slumbered on Tobirama’s lap, Madara’s throw spread over him to keep him warm.

“What I don’t understand,” he said, eyeing Kagami with a scowl plastered on his face, “Is how he kept hiding it. There were no signs, none at all, that I could see.”

“The biggest smile hides the deepest grief,” Tobirama said just as quietly. His hand never stopped in its petting, carding through the messy curls. Madara only shook his head.

“You don’t get it.” Madara reached for their tea which had, by now, grown cold and took a sip. “I am talking about cheerfully going by day, hiding it from not only me but also Hikaku. Mika trained him when he was young and he’s been like a brother figure to Kagami since he was born. Hikaku _knows_ him and he still…” Madara stopped, scowl deepening.

A humourless smile flashed across Tobirama’s face. “Kagami wasn’t joking about seeming unnoticed then,” he said. “In many ways.”

Madara was going flay whoever had been on the guard duty alive when he found the records of that particular day. An adult ninja sneaking past their guard he could understand if not accept, but a _child_? He blamed himself for not realising they were tailed either, for being completely focused on the Senju they had been running towards.

It wasn’t Kagami’s fault these things came to pass; if Madara was a better clan head, he—

No, he couldn’t afford to think that. He couldn’t be everywhere at once, especially with an unknown enemy sneaking in their midst. His scowl deepened.

“What is this ‘Zetsu’?” he growled. “And where can I find it so I can kill it?”

Tobirama tilted his head, staring somewhere on Madara’s left. His brows knit together as his gaze sharpened. “Zetsu is a creation of a being called Kaguya,” Tobirama said slowly, and Madara could almost hear the feminine timbre of whose words he was repeating. “She was once a mortal woman who decided she deserved to be a god in her own right and thus waged war against the deities. She was nearly successful, having razed followers of other gods down to serve her instead, starving several smaller deities into… nonexistence.” Tobirama shook his head. “Is that even possible?”

“Must be.” Madara’s sharingan had sprung to life to record every word that was spoken so he would never forget any of it. His chakra pulsed with it and he stretched his fingers, wishing he could wrap them around a certain being. “Continue.”

“Yes. It took all the elder gods had to force her not take advantage of the new vacuum but she had managed to absorb some of the powers left behind by their respective gods. This… meant that she couldn’t be completely killed as she had achieved a godhood of sort, an incomplete one. They managed to bring her down and… Tsukuyomi volunteered to hide her away from all the living so she could be forgotten and therefore starve the same way she had killed the others. Where did he hide her? You don’t know. _How_ do you not know?”

“Tobirama.” Madara cut in though he wondered the same. “What happened to her followers?”

“They slowly started worshipping others again, she says, when all traces of her were destroyed from memory.” Tobirama shifted, causing Kagami to whimper. His hand returned to the same comforting motion and the boy settled back into sleep. “But she’s not dead. She’s been kept alive all these years by Zetsu, hasn’t she?”

Madara opened his mouth to answer but Tobirama raised his hand, silently asking for silence. He listened to the voice Madara could not hear, nodding along with whatever he did hear. Then he rolled his shoulders and turned back to Madara. “I do not understand one thing. What would Zetsu want from the Uchiha?”

He contemplated on it, tugging on his hair as he did. He could not say. But someone else might have. “Mika must have known or have guessed something like it. She wouldn’t have been perceived as a threat otherwise.”

“Was Kagami’s mother working on something before her demise?”

Madara slowly shook his head. “Nothing that I can recall. Considering how close she and Hikaku were, I think he would have mentioned something during our research so I doubt she told anyone.”

“We need to look at her things.”

“Yes, we do.” Then a thought occurred on him. “But it does not make sense that her own creation could keep her from starving; otherwise no god would ever be forgotten and… killed, if that really is how you kill a god.” That was a chilling thought and more than Madara had ever wanted to know. “She must still have followers _somewhere_.”

Tobirama’s head whipped around, again staring at nothing. His eyes followed an unsteady pattern going up and down in the air, the movement spelling anxiousness better than Madara could write. “She says you are right,” Tobirama said quietly. “So we have no idea how powerful she could be right now.” Tobirama suddenly lost colour on his face, causing his pallor to pale even more. “Amaterasu… when did you say you last heard of Tsukuyomi exactly?”

Madara’s eyes widened at the implication and from the tight look on Tobirama’s face he already knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“Tsukuyomi’s celebration is in five weeks’ time,” he said. “During the longest night of the year.”

Tobirama grimaced and asked, “How many people usually gather to these celebrations?”

Madara suddenly remembered what Touka had said about the Senju and their religious practices. Of course he wouldn’t know. “To his? Fewer every year, I’ve heard. Apparently he no longer answers their prayers…” his voice trailed off as a realisation struck him. “It’s… no, it can’t be. The way we haven’t heard from Amaterasu. But, how?”

Tobirama’s eyes widened from the squint they had been in. “’Away from all living’, do you think he hid her on the moon? It was Tsukuyomi’s territory, was it not?” The pinched look returned and he hissed, “Calm yourself! We need to think clearly and panicking does _not_ help anyone!”

“And we can’t do much anything today anyway,” Madara said, nodding towards Kagami. “We have other priorities.” Although, now that Kagami was asleep, they could, perhaps—

Tobirama inclined his head and then shivered. He pressed a hand over his forehead and rubbed the skin there as if suddenly battling a headache.

“What is it?”

“She just… returned inside me. It is a strange feeling.”

Madara believed him. “She is upset?”

“Very.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Not exactly, she’s… not me,” Tobirama said lamely. “It’s… more like cohabitating space. I can sense her and her… mood, but it does not affect me more than I allow it to.”

Allow it. Allow a _god_. Madara couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him, waving away the confused frown. It didn’t look nearly as severe with the happuri gone; Madara had to wonder if many of the glares he had seen sent his and Izuna’s way had been more looks of befuddlement than actual anger.

“Can you pick Kagami up without waking him?”

The confusion turned into judgement in an instant and Tobirama rose to his feet without a single peep from him nor Kagami. Madara chuckled again. He motioned him to follow him and led him to his own room. Tobirama froze on the threshold, as if afraid to openly walk into Madara’s personal space.

“Put him on the bed. I don’t want him to wake alone.”

With a mere breath of hesitation Tobirama entered the room and deposited Kagami on the covers, pulling them over him. Kagami curled into himself, disappearing beneath the blankets. Madara focused on him for a moment and found him deep into his exhaustion. Gods, with keeping up that exhausting act he had to be drained.

Madara pulled out the religious scrolls he had hidden from the elders and motioned Tobirama to follow him again towards his office. He kept his senses open and focused in case Kagami stirred. He had meant what he said. The boy would not wake up alone again if he could help it.

He _had_ told Izuna Kagami was taking it all too well, excluding his strange latching to the idea of Tobirama. If it was out of guilt…

Madara was going to burn that piece of yellow-eyed shit like yesterday’s trash.

“—turning.”

“Hmm?” he hummed distractedly before realising Tobirama had spoken. “What?”

Tobirama sighed. “Touka is returning.”

“Ah, shit.” Now that he said it, he could sense her approach, trailed by two of the Uchiha she had sparred with. Madara glanced at the texts in his hands. If the elders knew he was thinking of letting their former adversaries look at the scrolls that held almost as important place in their life as the stone tablet of their ancestors—

“I can tell her to look away,” Tobirama said when Madara’s silence lengthened. Madara huffed, rolling his shoulders to release the tension in them.

“No,” he said decisively. “If she wants to help, then she can.” At this point, whatever they could discover was a triumph in his opinion. The quicker they found out how to find the bastard, the better.

It was personal now.

However, the moment Touka burst in with sweat on her brow and a confident swagger in her step, she made a face at them standing with the texts. “Oh no,” she said. “No, no, no. I am not going to be stuck in whatever research binge you are doing with Tobi. You are on your own.” She then immediately traced her steps so she was out of the room and heading back towards the stairs. “I’m using your bath.”

“Be quiet about it,” Tobirama said. “Kagami is sleeping in Madara’s room.”

“Kaga-who?”

“Kagami. He’s a child who—”

Touka whirled around and pointed at Madara. “This is what I was talking about,” she said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And then she was out of their sight with one last distracted wave of her hand. “Good luck.”

Madara stared in the direction she disappeared into and then slowly turned around to stare at Tobirama with his brows raised. The Senju simply shrugged.

“She’s keener on battling it out than going through paperwork of any sort.”

“You don’t say.” With that said, however, he spread the scrolls on his desk. “These are the religious texts we combed when we prepared Amaterasu’s summoning. Hikaku couldn’t find anything wrong with them nor the priests’ sermons but we may have missed something.”

“Due to the fact that none of you knew about Zetsu nor Kaguya.” Tobirama nodded, one pale finger caressing the yellowing paper. “And do you think this will reveal their connection to the Uchiha?”

“Probably not,” Madara admitted. “Since none of _us_ have ever heard of either, I doubt it, no, they are that careless. But there may be a connection as to why we can’t hear Amaterasu or Tsukuyomi’s followers can’t hear him.”

“And then we will have something to compare with whatever we find from Kagami’s mother.” Tobirama tapped the nearest scroll twice before snatching it up. “A sound plan.” His chin lowered to almost meet his collarbone and, dryly, he asked, “Are you done yet? You may want to lose the self-pity and focus on _your_ people. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Madara took another scroll and rolled it open, surreptitiously keeping an eye on Tobirama as he softly argued with the being only he could hear. He found himself hoping there was a way for him to hear her too, to be given a sign that not everything was hopeless. He supposed her mere presence was a sign of that in a sense and he did believe she was present, no one could fake what had happened or the things said, but…

Madara’s mouth formed a line and he reached for Kagami again, finding him still fast asleep. He automatically searched for Izuna as well before he halted, his lips thinning even more.

The moment he found the black menace, he would burn him with Amaterasu’s righteous flames and enjoy every painful moment of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The murder senses are tingling.


	14. Tobirama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made some minor edits on formatting, nothing affecting the storytelling.

Amaterasu was being unusually quiet. Since Tobirama bullied her out of whatever hole she had dug herself into, he hadn’t heard a peep from her. She was just there, barely close enough to the surface that Tobirama knew she couldn’t ignore when he quietly read the documents aloud. Madara had long since stopped glancing in his direction, first confused and then looking for a sign he had uncovered anything. However, the only thing Tobirama found within the texts was that they were all pure nonsense. He was both extremely glad he had been out on a courier mission when his stepmother had convinced the rest of his family to attend to the ritual her priest arranged and annoyed he never took time to look into it, no matter the amount of nonsense. It made sense to him, even better now, why Butsuma had forbidden him, Hashirama and Kawarama from attending them henceforth.

Why would anyone believe any of these outlandish claims? There was no sensible reason why a human had to prostrate themselves for anyone, even if they were a deity. While there were no such demands in the texts, the intent was clear if one read between the lines. Especially now that he was familiar with this god in particular it made no sense to him. Gods were not especially special; they were there for their followers, but there was nothing reasonable about expecting someone, god or otherwise, to drop everything they had to rescue someone at the drop of a hat. Tobirama understood celebrations and offerings; the Senju were very conscious about greeting each season and its spirits. What he didn’t was the blind faith Uchiha seemed to have for Amaterasu.

Amaterasu’s presence shifted akin to someone turning their head away. Tobirama frowned at the unenthusiastic sulk.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quietly. Almost cat-like, Amaterasu curled into herself.

_But you are right_, she mumbled. _I am such a useless god._

Tobirama sighed. “Amaterasu.”

_I didn’t even know things had gone this bad. I didn’t know about Tsukuyomi’s struggles and I’ve ragged about him to anyone who would listen!_ Her voice rose and Tobirama barely hid his wince. As it was it couldn’t have been all too successful, considering that Madara had now stopped his reading and resumed staring at him. _I am a bad god and an even worse _sister_._

“Tsukuyomi’s your brother?” Tobirama asked, meeting Madara’s eyes and raising his brows slightly. Madara blinked and nodded carefully.

_Tsukuyomi, Susanoo, and I. We were the first. The sun, the moon, and the storms. Always together, until we weren’t. _She fell quiet. _I wonder how Susanoo’s doing too… If he’s in danger of vanishing too, if he’s just as trapped as—_

“Self-pity helps no one.” Tobirama shifted to keep his legs from falling asleep. “Please. I can make no sense of these texts. I need to see if you recognise anything that is not supposed to be here.”

_I—all right, yes. You are right._ Her presence seemed to brighten inside him. _You are right. I—I apologise. I have not been at my best and have caused you undue pain because of it._

“I wouldn’t call this—”

_Not just today. Please, listen to me._

Tobirama nodded. He made a few small hand signs to tell Madara what was going on and after getting the message across Madara rose, muttering something about Kagami, and left the room.

Amaterasu seemed to watch him, somehow, and then she pulled herself away from him again with that familiar tug. She sat where Madara had just been, looking less a child and more an adult with her knees tucked under her and hands resting on her lap. _I have been ungrateful and taken your acceptance of me for granted_, she said. _I know it has not been easy for you, but I did not account for the many events this has brought upon us. Selfishly I decided that you would be in the perfect position to instil change when it should have been something discussed beforehand if possible. I had the chance; I knew you could see me. But I did not and acted on my own, decided to ‘gamble’ as if you were playthings instead of people and brought pain upon you and your family in the process._

_For that, and many other things, I apologise._

Amaterasu then bowed, pressing her hands together and bending her neck over them. Her clothes managed to still around her, creating a statuesque picture. Tobirama could only stare at her, eyes wide.

“Please, I do not—no, lift your head,” he stammered. When Amaterasu did not, he repeated almost desperately, “Please.”

She obeyed him then, her glowing red eyes boring into his own. _Will you accept my apology?_

“I grant that the events have not been easy on me,” he said. “There have been many things I would have done otherwise, but we are here now. We have made more progress than I could have imagined. It may not be what I pictured—and I admit, I could not have imagined a world where we stood a chance with peace.” Amaterasu inclined her head so Tobirama continued, “Despite all my initial misgivings, we are uncovering things that, given time, might have caused any other way to peace to crumble. Or perhaps not, but we cannot be sure of that. What we do know is that what you did was unexpected and something that no one could account for. Because of that I feel that you do not have to apologise.”

_But I want to anyway._

“In that case, I will accept it. But we need to move quickly. Right now we have no idea of what our apparent enemy might have planned and what they may be trying now that their plans have been derailed.”

_Our?_ There was a smile playing on her lips, transforming her melancholic features into something Tobirama was more familiar with. The expression of joy fit her better than the naked grief.

“We are tied, are we not?” he said. “Whether or not you had acted, whatever would have befallen the Uchiha would have held great impact on the Senju as well. Especially now that we know our adversary is another of your calibre—or attempting to be. We stand a better chance united and we are working towards it. And if, in the end, we triumph, perhaps the progress can make us form a world where no child has to know things we did or has to lose their life in vain.”

The gentle curve of her smile deepened and Tobirama realised how much she actually resembled his mother; perhaps not in appearance, but the love she radiated for each and every one she counted her own.

_Thank you, Tobirama._ She leaned forward and pressed a warm kiss over his brows. _Your being able to see me has been the greatest gift I have received in all my years._

Tobirama felt heat creep up his cheeks and he turned to look where Madara entered the room, a sleepy Kagami wrapped in a blanked curled on his arms. Tobirama blinked and let a small smile curl over his mouth as well which left Madara staring at him in a wide-eyed flush.

Madara had kept his promise. Kagami did not have to wake alone.

He was glad.

“I am glad I ended up where I am today,” Tobirama said and he meant it. He was glad to have learned that there were more to the Uchiha than he had known, that there were people like Eri and Satsuki, children like Kagami, that even Izuna had sides Tobirama had not known and could appreciate, or learn to. Even more so he was glad to have been given a chance to see the person leading the clan, the one his brother spoke highly of and who his people were loyal to.

He was glad to have known Madara.

The man in question nodded, half-serious, half-smiling himself despite the bemusement that had made home on his face.

“And we are glad to have you here.”

***

They offered Kagami a couple more senbei and a scroll with Hikaku’s handwriting. He read it to them, to Tobirama, Madara, and Amaterasu, though none but Tobirama could see her sitting beside them. When he had finished, Kagami made to sit curled between Tobirama and Madara so he was touching both of them the way he spread on the floor. Touka had come up after her bath and offered to cook for them to which they agreed to.

“Perchance with time spent in the sun will grow short but thou shall not be abandoned, for thy goddess shall watch over you—"

Tobirama still read the scrolls he had aloud quietly, hand carding through Kagami’s mussed curls. The boy had his eyes closed, dried tear tracks still decorating his face, but he felt calmer now than he had a couple of hours ago.

“There may come a time when the fear of the night shall find home in thy hearts, but thou do not need to be afraid—”

His chakra was still down and tainted with loss yet Tobirama thought he could also sense blips in it, as if the storm would be able to pass the seas in time. Reaching acceptance was always the hardest part but also the most rewarding; Tobirama knew that from experience.

“And thus, when the days are gone and thou look towards the skies, it is in the radiant night that thou will find thy salvation in—”

_Wait._

Tobirama blinked and stopped. He turned to Amaterasu who was looking at the scroll he held with her brows knitted together. Madara paused himself, looking up from the scroll Tobirama had looked over earlier just in case. “Amaterasu?”

_The scroll said radiant night, didn’t it?_

“Yes,” Tobirama said and relayed the words to Madara and Kagami, who was now looking more awake.

“Kikyo picked that one out when we researched for the ritual,” Madara revealed. “With the ‘night is darkest’, we took it to mean to call for you when we could not see another way out. Amaterasu is said to shine even in the dark, colouring the moon that would otherwise leave the sky dark.”

“Is that true?” Tobirama turned to look back at Amaterasu when Madara finished.

_I—well, yes,_ she said, but she continued to look troubled. _The moon’s power is focused on reflection though that’s not all it can do. It is why Tsukuyomi has mistakenly been called the weakest of us three many a times. But enough of that, are there any other mentions of nights and perhaps the colour red in the texts?_

“Madara?”

“I think so…”

“Hikaku-nii’s notes said those were most commonly found in this, this, and this scroll,” Kagami announced, picking up three other scrolls from the pile. “Though there were a few in others too.” He looked proud to have managed to help. Tobirama thanked him, commending his sharpness and memory. The boy beamed even with his eyes still tinted pink.

They went through the scrolls, picking up all the mentions while Amaterasu grew more serious with each one. The list went on with longer sentences such as, ‘when the sun burns, the incense wafts in the deep, red night’, and mere mentions of ‘deep red flower of the night’, ‘deep red summer night’, and ‘the ruler of the eternal night’.

When they finished, they waited expectantly for Amaterasu to say something. She brooded for a moment, eyes flicking between each note and title, her inner glow pulsing with anger.

_Kaguya_, she hissed. _These scrolls have been tampered with._

When Tobirama repeated her words, Madara snapped, “What?”

_Look at how they are written_, she said. _The kanji are never exactly the same, but all of them can make up her name when read out loud._

And out loud did Tobirama read them. Radiant Night suddenly read her name as did Incense in the Deep Red Night, and the titles even more so. His mouth formed a thin line. He would bet there were even more combinations they had not picked up while reading.

“It is no wonder Amaterasu could not be heard,” he said quietly and gestured at the pages of notes. “You haven’t truly been worshipping her for a long while but in name only.”

Madara was pale, paler than Tobirama had seen him ever before. His chakra whirled malevolently inside him and he bristled, every muscle of his tightening under the strain of not exploding right where he stood. Tobirama tugged lightly on Kagami’s hair, gaining his attention.

“Would you go see if Touka’s finished with dinner yet? Perhaps you can keep her some company.”

Kagami glanced at Madara and then gave Tobirama a surprisingly shrewd look before acquiescing. He picked up the leftover tea and the senbei, shoving one in his mouth, before he carefully walked out and tugged the door close with his foot.

Madara waited precisely five seconds before bursting into an impressive bout of cursing. His eyes flickered red, emotions bottling up and spilling over, and he picked up one of the paperweights on his table and threw it across the room. He screamed once, high-pitched and angry and loud enough to reverberate past the confinement of the walls. Akin to Madara, on his other side, Amaterasu’s temper was spiking. Her inner light was growing brighter and simmering down in wildly unpredictable patterns. She grew smaller, more childlike, her rage spitting larger fires the less mature she looked.

Tobirama watched them, carefully holding himself motionless. He could understand the anger; had he found similar attempts of manipulation within his clan, there was no doubt he would have reacted similarly if with less… abandon, he could say. It was not in his nature to show his emotions the way Madara did, used to growing even quieter in his rage and using biting words instead of irrational yelling though it was not unheard of for him to give as good as he got either.

However, this was no time for him to let go of his control. While Madara spat out curses and Amaterasu pitching a fit, he gathered the scrolls and made comparisons to Hikaku’s notes. He picked up the ink from Madara’s desk and filled in what the other Uchiha had missed. It was important to make sure they had these written down whenever Madara needed to confront his clan about it. He also took a couple of empty scrolls and quickly made copies with the seal he had learned during his visits in Uzushio.

When Madara calmed down enough to let his eyes fade back to black, Tobirama gave him one of the copies. “Check it if I missed anything,” he said. He hid the other one in his person, in full view of Madara so he would know Tobirama had one. This was no time for such secrets. “I think we need to arrange a meeting with the Senju soon. This goes beyond our clans and we need to consider this a threat to us all. I am not fond of the idea of having to live in a world where, how was it put here, there is ‘an eternal night with the deep red moon watching over thou’.”

Madara made no move to read the updated notes. He stared at Tobirama as if he had never seen him before, eyes wide with the angry flush still colouring his cheeks. Tobirama merely stared back. It reminded him of the look Madara had given him earlier after fetching Kagami. He couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in Madara’s head. With a swallow and a cough, Madara rolled the scroll open and focused on the notes without a word.

“Seems fine to me,” he gruffed a couple of minutes later and rolled it close. He put the copies inside his locked desk drawer and the originals on his shelf, under the finished paperwork. Tobirama blinked. Hiding in plain sight. That was… surprisingly clever. He ought to stop underestimating Madara. “We are going to fetch Mika’s things today for safekeeping. I am no longer certain they will stay untouched if we leave them be.”

Tobirama nodded. It was more than possible that they had spies in their midst, considering the recent evidence, or some other manner of surveillance. “We should see about Touka and Kagami first.”

Madara inclined his head and turned around in one brisk motion. Tobirama rose and followed him out of the office, Amaterasu floating after him. There was a dark look on her childlike features and anger bubbling right under the surface.

_I am going to make her regret not fading away like a bad little rotten piece of…_ Amaterasu mumbled, eyes blazing.

“Not very godlike behaviour, is it?”

_Breaking all the possible rules. Though we can’t really expect anything more, can we?_

Tobirama shook his head. Indeed not.

_I am going to watch over them_, she said, conviction strengthening her voice. _Better than before. I am not going to let them down ever again._

“I didn’t think you would.”

_Tobirama._

“Yes?”

_I am going to need your assistance_, Amaterasu said, stopping on one of the lowest steps. When Tobirama turned to her, at the bottom of the stairs, they were on the same eye level. _Will you lend me a hand?_

Tobirama blinked. “Are you asking?”

_I am not your god_. She stared at him, unfaltering. _And I have no right to demand anything from you. I was serious when I apologised and I will not demand undue loyalty based on technicalities anymore. You do not owe me anything if you ever did; if anything, I owe _you_ for allowing us to uncover the things we have. I would appreciate your cooperation, however, but if you were to…_ she trailed off and lifted her chin. _I would not begrudge you if you were to protect your own._

Tobirama sighed and let his frown slip away. He lifted his hand and, never taking his eyes off of hers, he took her hand in his, the first contact he ever initiated between them. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“And I was not lying when I said we are now tied. Helping you, helping the Uchiha, is helping the Senju. Now,” his gaze sharpened, “what do you need?”

Amaterasu squeezed his hand in thanks. _When we met on the battlefield, I joked about falling asleep on their rituals, _she said, instead of offering a straight answer. Tobirama could not remember it, but he remembered her immature attitude from before and was not surprised if that was something she had said. He motioned her to continue._ It was not entirely true but not a total jest either. I tried but they were all so very solemn and they did not follow what I had taught them, causing me to drift away, and now it is clear why. Do you understand how tiring it is to be where others are worshipped? _She looked upset. _I am mad at myself that I did not make the connection myself and made fun of it, joking at their expenses when they did not deserve it._

“Hindsight is always better than the one we have in the moment.”

Amaterasu inclined her head. She was growing in age and size again and took a step down so Tobirama did not have to crane his neck. _They were not willing to listen to me because they no longer followed me, as you said, in anything but name. Whether a conscious decision or not, it mattered. Madara was a possible exception because he did not follow the false teachings, but he did not truly follow mine either, which… _she sighed. _I thought everything could be solved with just achieving peace. I loftily spoke of a journey and end results, acting again in my own self-interest, when I clearly did not understand the scope of things as well as I thought I did._

_I do not revel in violence; I want the world to enjoy the life it has been given. I thought that if they understood all the good that the peace would bring, they would realise their folly and learn my ways again. Arrogant, I was. I had fallen into the same trap as many other gods and did not realise it. Even when I said I was not all-knowing I did not act like it, considered it true only when it suited me, and thought my years on this place of existence would give me sight when it did not. I had been away for too long and after returning I was demanding things I was not due and what my followers could not accept without a reason._

Amaterasu paused and Tobirama waited. She cradled his hand, biting her lip in a gesture of vulnerability as she bared her soul to him.

_I need to be heard. I need to be _truly_ heard, not as a spectacle but as someone they can rely on. You have done a wonderful job, been a better vessel and a prophet than I could have hoped for, but I want to be here for them myself. This arrangement that we have does not give me the chance to be through no fault of yours. I cannot touch them, I cannot speak to them, and without being there with them I cannot be what they need me to be._

_So I ask you again, Senju Tobirama, because you are the only one who I can lean on. I am sorry for the burdens I have laid on you and will endeavour to repay you for all that you have done for me._

_Please, will you help me?_

Tobirama watched her, made note of the sincerity he saw there and could not see a hint of any ulterior motives. There was a god before him, begging for his assistance, and refusing to demand it the way she had just a few weeks ago; the way he had been nagged on and childishly manipulated. What she didn’t seem to understand though was that even then he had agreed to it on his own volition. He had been wary but he had seen the chance to see no more little graves, to lift the veil from his brother’s smile, to be something else but a sword ready to cut… to have a chance to be something for himself too, the way he never really had had a chance to be before, to find his own full potential.

He tightened his grip on her and shook their hands. He met her grateful relief with a sharp grin; this was going to be a challenge, perhaps even bigger than creating hiraishin. He couldn’t wait.

“Let me see what I can do for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't love character growth and developing feelings where one half is a bit... oblivious? Lol.


	15. Madara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy March, everyone! I'm just going to real with you guys, I don't know how much time I will have to write this month. Let's just say that my work days are going to be around 8-12 hours for the next four to five weeks between teaching and students' school-leaving exams, not counting what I will have to do at home, e.g. preparing for lessons and grading. I will probably be able to inch some in because I relax through writing, so fingers crossed!
> 
> Anyhow, lights, camera, action! :)

Madara marched through the quiet streets, nodding his greetings at his few clansmen who still had not retired for dinner within their warm hearths. His exhale made a quickly dissipating cloud before him, his cloak barely keeping the cold out. He hadn’t waited for anyone to accompany him, instead he had instructed Touka to keep her eyes on Kagami and Tobirama and left without another word. He had needed time alone, _did_ need time alone. To think.

After signalling the Uchiha standing on watch to keep their guards up, he immediately made his way towards Mika’s former abode. He would have to ask Madoka for the key; he didn’t want Kagami to come to find his home broken into even if it was done by his clan head—perhaps especially if it was done by his clan head. Madara would not give Kagami—or _anyone_ under his protection—a chance to doubt his faith in him and breaking what was _his_ now was… unacceptable.

It was already dark outside and even the moon was in hiding tonight. The little light the lanterns shone over his path guided his steps. It was bleak, a pale imitation to a candle’s glow against pure white. He closed his eyes for a second and breathed the crispy air in.

Madara was infatuated. There was no escaping the fact. He was far beyond merely appreciating physical features and strength in one’s limbs in the heat of a battle, of watching a keen mind that could catch things even a sharingan could miss. His fingers spasmed and he clenched his hands into fists. Of all times, of all _people_. He had long since given up on having anything more than something arranged or one-night fancies where no one knew who he was under the illusion. He scoffed. Even then those indulges were rare for him since as the head of the clan he could not afford to show such carelessness. He was not Izuna.

His brows knit together. Izuna. Izuna knew, he was certain of that now. He knew his brother and his meddling ways, and his brother knew him, most times better than he did himself. The little bastard had seen something and acted on it too; Madara _knew_ he had not gone to the Senju merely out of the goodness of his black heart but he hadn’t been able to put his finger on it. Izuna had probably hoped Madara would realise whatever this was, make a fool of himself one way or another, and then he could curl that mouth of his in that annoying, self-satisfied way he always did when his schemes paid off.

And it had, paid off that is. Madara was more than aware of Tobirama now than ever. He was a beautiful man, strong in form and mind, who had—Madara bit his lip and took a turn to right, taking a shortcut between two houses. He flexed his hands. The alley was dark and gloomy but nothing Madara hadn’t seen before. The shadows loomed over him and he snorted, blowing a small katon to dissipate them.

Tobirama had anticipated Madara’s needs before he had dared to even think of them, kept his calm when Madara had not, and just… accepted it. It was a familiarity that Madara was not used to in anyone but family. Even then he would expect it only in Izuna for anyone else would rather avoid him than make themselves a target and even he was a slave to his temper more often than not. Yet Tobirama had taken him in and let his fit of rage pass without a comment, focusing on the task to help those Madara held most precious to him. He expected nothing more than what he could give, had no illusions as to who Madara was. And then there was that _smile_—

The force of Madara’s sigh blew out leftover smoke from his katon.

For the first time in his life he wondered if this was how his father had felt about his mother. He bit back a slightly bitter laugh. Izuna, you bastard, he thought. No matter how novel an experience, he would rather have remained oblivious. There was no true peace yet and only lingering war on the horizon, whether fought with the Senju or against them. He had his hopes, his dreams, on the former, but he would not let himself forget the reality in favour of them. He could not have what he wanted, not when their situation was as precarious as ever… and he would not put anyone in the same position as he was. He _hated_ this twisting feeling in his belly, of wanting something for himself for once and of doing the best for his clan both. Unfortunately, he could not see those two desires aligning anytime soon.

His brother always had the cruellest streak in their family. Father would be proud if he wasn’t rolling in his figurative grave.

Madara shook the thoughts from his head and rolled his shoulders. He knocked on Madoka’s door and waited. There was no answer, no shout to ‘come in’. She was probably in the back again. His head lolled back and then front again to thump against the door. The mess that was his hair hid his face from the world.

What would he even say to him? Hey, by the way, I know you are in the midst of a clan you are only about to get somewhat friendly with as a whole, have a deity attached to you in a very co-dependent way, and there’s a would-be goddess ready to… to mess with their whole lives even more, but, you know, I think you are attractive? In more than just appearance? Do you think you might want to share a dumpling, take a walk in the nearest woods, sit by the river? Because nothing is more romantic than years-long animosity, impending battles and voyeuristic higher beings. He groaned. If Izuna was here, he would be laughing like mad and Madara would be obligated to throw him in the pond as was his job as the best big brother.

…Tobirama was a suiton master. He liked water. Had he shown him the pond yet? The weather still wasn’t cold enough for it to have frozen. There was a good spot right behind the house to—

For _fuck’s sake_.

Madara thumped his head against the door harder and it clicked open with a creak. He frowned, leaning back. He knocked again and then pushed, peeking in. Nothing was off; the area looked untouched by any but a woman’s hand, meticulously cleaned of any of Kagami’s clutter. He opened his senses.

Only she was not there.

She could have been visiting her nephew or daughter-in-law. She could have been helping close down the market or do any of the dozen perfectly normal things he knew she and the other non-fighters of their clan did to keep the compound running. Knowing all of this didn’t dismiss the awful feeling Madara felt clawing at his throat. A blip of something the next house over drew his attention.

Someone was at Mika’s house.

He drew the door close again and hid in the shadows, focusing on his chakra. He drew it in little by little as if he was walking further away again, creating an illusion of him leaving. With another thrown over himself, rendering himself invisible for the unaware eye, he quietly walked to the alley between Madoka’s and Mika’s houses. He glanced up, calculating which of Mika’s windows would most likely be unlocked and the room unoccupied. He decided on Kagami’s old room. The boy had a habit of forgetting things that oft left people despairing at him, Madara included.

He leapt up and hung from the frame. The room was dark and lifeless. He tried the window and it silently swung open just as he had hoped. Soundlessly he let himself in and listened. He could hear nothing at all. Everything was the way it should be.

He didn’t like it.

Madara crept across the room and pressed his hand on the handle. He leaned against the wall and opened the door. It creaked a little and he fell motionless, listening again. Nothing. Madara tugged one of his kunai free from where he had hidden them, sliding his finger against the blade light enough that it could not prickle blood.

He lowered his head and, with two large leaps, threw the door to Mika’s room open. The figure inside stiffened and didn’t move from the crouch he was in. Madara’s mouth formed a thin line when he recognised him.

“Yuji.”

Kikyo’s grandson looked at him, carefully avoiding his eyes, but otherwise stayed still. Madara glanced at the mess of papers on Mika’s bed and the map that was half-rolled open in Yuji’s hands. The room was in disarray with pillows thrown around and shredded, the floorboards pulled from their resting place and the tapestries removed from the walls. His eyes slid back to the man whose knuckles had turned white and a thin sheen of sweat now layered over his forehead.

“Why?”

Yuji didn’t answer. Madara raised his kunai but Yuji threw a fireball at him before diving out of the way himself. Madara sensed someone behind him and threw his kunai in the direction. It hit something hard with a twang and a yelp of pain but Madara did not pity them. No one here would be a friend. He jumped at Yuji, knowing that he needed the traitor alive no matter how much he wanted to gut him, and brought him down. There was a brief struggle before Madara managed to knock him out by ramming his skull against the floor. He didn’t even watch the eyes roll back before he was back up on his feet with Yuji’s useless blade that he hadn’t had time to draw in his hand.

Two men stared at him, one of them with a sluggishly bleeding wound on his abdomen from where Madara had hit him. They were wearing Uchiha armour and colours like they owned them but Madara had never seen them before. His sharingan flared to life and he took them in, the records of faces flashing through his mind within a fraction of a second. No, he indeed had never seen either of them before today.

He readied the sword.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “And what are you doing here?”

“We are gathering information,” one of the men said, the one without the wound, glowering as if nothing fishy was going on except for Madara’s presence inside the house. Their stances were relaxed enough that it rang all Madara’s alarms, his sharingan catching each and every little shift that could mean an upcoming attack. “About suspicious activities for the clan head. I suggest you stand down before the situation escalates.”

“As much as it can,” the wounded one said. His hand was slowly growing redder as blood seeped through his clothing. “You have wounded one of your own. No, two,” he said, after noticing Yuji on the ground. “What would Madara-sama say to that?”

Madara narrowed his eyes and then he felt Touka’s chakra spike in alarm. An attack on two fronts. At least. He gritted his teeth.

“And he can corroborate your story?”

The men nodded and the first one said, “Yes, he can.”

Madara grinned savagely and his voice was just as sharp-edged as the lightning before it struck. “Is that so?” he asked, pointing the blade at the men. “It is too bad for you, then, to have stumbled upon the clan head himself who has no recollection of such an order.”

Madara sprung forward before his words had time to hit home, letting his chakra fly free. He hit the wounded one, cutting open the armour the way no one but an Uchiha knew how. It revealed skin paler than a regular Uchiha had, traces of brown dye on the shoulders and the Senju clan symbol over the shirt. The shirt. The shirt? He blinked, going over the faces he knew but he had no memory of Senju with their faces. He didn’t know them all, naturally, but there was no way Hashirama would endanger the ceasefire and his brother—_especially_ his brother. Perhaps there was someone else who vehemently opposed the peace? No, this smelled like a—

He gutted the man but only managed a shallow wound as he twisted out of the way. Without losing his momentum Madara changed directions and his blade hit another with a loud noise and a smatter of sparks. He kicked the man who clumsily dropped the kunai he held—his own, Madara realised—and backed away. The man flexed his hands.

“He said not to!” the wounded man said. The other one snorted with a dark, murderous look in his eyes.

“And?” he replied and then bone burst from his arm, forming a sharp blade alongside the length. Madara’s eyes recorded everything and, despite him being surprised by the technique, he managed to evade the attack without much trouble, kicking him in the chest and sending him stumbling back in the process. He saw a flash of white in the corner of his eyes after the wounded man grunted and his chest burst open with his ribs forming a tougher armour than the regular shinobi wear.

Madara sidestepped and slashed, threw a ball of fire and then called for Izuna’s favoured lightning. Bones of all shapes and sharpness came at him and the men seemed far more comfortable with them than steel, it seemed, but even with unknown jutsus or bloodline limits Madara’s focus was not broken once. His temper simmered and he wanted _blood_.

With a few carefully planted feints, thrown kunai, and slashes of Yuji’s blade, Madara had the men side by side again, taken downstairs to the kitchen with a stone floor, and stuck to a corner. Just where he wanted them. Madara sent a quick apology to Mika and then fed more chakra to his eyes. He felt his pulse thicken and fasten at the same time, the echo loud in his ears. The tomoes spun and spun until they moulded into a form unique to only Madara. “Amaterasu!” he yelled and spat black flames at the white-haired duo. The men grinned, spreading their arms in their cocoons of bones as if welcoming the heat. The dark fire flew from him, curling around the men and engulfing them.

For a moment nothing happened. The men just stood there, white against black, bone against fire, teeth glinting in the dark light. Then the fire flickered sparkling white for a brief second, the barest bits tangling with the deepest of shades, and their faces morphed into surprise and the screaming started.

Madara watched as their faces melted in the heat and the bone burned, crumbling to dust. He watched them claw at themselves and each other, making sure there was no escape for them as he hacked one of the stumbling legs off. And there wasn’t, Madara knew, escape that is. He had burned enough people to know that Amaterasu’s flames burned as hot as the sun herself.

When he knew they were truly gone and only ash was left, he flicked his senses at Yuji, determining that he was still out like a light. He rushed past the too still form of Madoka, sent a prayer to Amaterasu to guide her home, and with a burst of chakra was on his way back to where he had left Kagami, Touka and Tobirama.

People were scrambling on the streets, looking wild but readily armed in case of an attack, but Madara brushed aside their surprise at someone openly attacking the compound. Rarely was anyone as desperate as that and no one had managed to cross the field of traps before without setting off a single one. Ordinarily that would have been the case.

But not when they had been betrayed from within the walls.

“Make sure no one leaves the compound!” he yelled as he flew past them. He heard shouts after him but his focus was back in front of him. It look him less than ten seconds to find himself before the door left ajar and he burst inside. There were two bodies on the ground, another of those Uchiha-dressed men with bones sticking out of their bodies in a way they ordinarily wouldn’t—or shouldn’t. He found Touka crouching in front of Kagami who had a scratch on his cheek but nothing else, eyes wide and red in the way Madara had hoped no child would have anymore. Two prone bodies lied behind them, one of them still breathing.

Tobirama was battling three people at once, two women and a man, and Madara charged until he had pierced through one of the women and cut her savagely in half. Tobirama made quick work of the man during his moment of surprise and the only woman left attempted to disengage the moment she realised she was alone against the two of them. Neither of them let her but she didn’t allow herself to be caught off guard the way her comrades had been. She was clearly twice as skilled as her companions and fought back viciously despite her disadvantage, giving them a clear message.

She would not be taken alive.

Wanting it to be over, Madara spat another bout of black flames with a yell of Amaterasu’s name. Again it seemed to almost have no effect and the woman almost jumped out of the way but then the small burst of white tangled in before fading and she screamed, trying to summon a suiton to douse the flames. Tobirama glared at her coldly and wrenched the water out of her grip with control that would have left Madara in awe if he wasn’t focused on burning only the woman and not their surroundings too. Even without Tobirama, her efforts would have been in vain.

There was nothing Amaterasu’s fire couldn’t burn.

With one last hateful and pained look the woman slumped, dead, body disintegrating in the overwhelming heat. Madara threw his chakra in the air in a web, attempting to catch anyone that shared similar presences to them around the compound, but he couldn’t find any. He turned to Tobirama impatiently, finding him with scratches and slightly torn clothes, eyes wide and bright and ready to fight. His worn appearance shouldn’t be as attractive as it was. Madara grit his teeth and shoved the thought away.

Tobirama shook his head, indicating that he couldn’t sense anyone else either, and said, “They tried to kill Kagami.”

“And Tobirama too,” Touka added, strengthening from her stance, but being no less ready to act. Madara nodded sharply. He willed the flames to die until nothing was left but ashes and floorboards that would have to be replaced. He tsked.

“Stay here and keep your eyes open. I need to go back out there. Be ready to move at a moment’s notice. We have a traitor amongst us.”

He didn’t wait for them to agree or voice their disapproval before leaving through the door, banging it shut behind him. He listened to the reports the leftover guards gave him, the ones that had gone to look at the commotion despite Madara’s orders. They had two bodies secured but had also lost another Uchiha to them. Madara's chakra spiked. Three more of his clan, dead. And for what? Kaguya? It sure as hell wouldn't be the Senju, not with the clumsily planted evidence that they had left behind.

His blood boiled.

He jumped on the roof of the building between the town square and the road to the gate. “Uchiha!” he bellowed. “Look for anyone you don’t recognise! The enemy is wearing Uchiha armour, trying to appear as one of us! Form groups of three or more, no one is to be alone from this moment forth! We have been betrayed from the inside and do _not_ let _anyone_ past the gates, Uchiha or not!”

Madara heard the roar of shock and outrage and joined the search. Even if he had not felt anyone strange, he couldn’t help but remember that they had managed to get in without anyone noticing. There might be more lying in wait, traitors or enemy agents. This would _not_ be allowed, ever again.

He sent the guards back to the main house to watch over the clearest targets, another two of his clansmen to drag Yuji to a holding cell and got to work.

It would be a long night to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say action, didn't I?


	16. Tobirama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I did warn March was crazy but evidently I didn't count on the corona virus which, well, doubled my work. Schools are closed but distance teaching is a thing so I've had to modify my materials and plans and remake all the exams and... well. You get it. I shouldn't complain much though because I'm not one of those whose whole livelihoods are in turmoil. Fingers crossed we all manage to get through this as intact as possible!
> 
> In any case, I hope you enjoy this chapter and that it'll bring you joy <3

Tobirama watched the door slam shut with a loud bang and let his grip on his kunai slacken. He let it drop for a fraction of a second before snagging it back up and hiding it in the folds of his clothes. He had never been so glad to be always prepared. He had barely managed to grab Kagami away from the upcoming attack that Touka immediately responded with one of her own. The broken cups were proof of her viciousness; he hoped they were nothing irreplaceable. The Uchiha guarding them had joined the fight immediately but it had been clear that one of them was already going to be lost; she had had a large wound across her stomach that kept bleeding but her eyes had turned red the moment she saw blood on Kagami’s cheek and gone berserk.

He tsked and strode over where the two Uchiha lied, their bodies motionless. The woman, reckless in her anger, was cut almost in half the way Madara had, ironically, done to one of their attackers. The man was breathing but when Tobirama did a quick scan of his wounds—going as far as snapping the buckles of his armour—he found one of his lungs pierced. The blade hadn’t been twisted around which was probably the only reason he wasn’t dead yet.

“Will Osamu-san be all right?” Kagami asked behind him. Tobirama pursed his mouth.

“Let my cousin work and we’ll see,” Touka said instead and Tobirama heard her pull—drag—Kagami away from them. “And you will finish your dinner before going to wash up. You are sleeping here tonight.”

“But I’m not—Auntie will be worried!”

“We’ll just ask one of the guards to run a message,” she said, loudly, eyes on the ceiling. Tobirama tuned them out as they retreated further away and gave his full attention to the Uchiha lying prone on the floor. It looked bad and, like he had told Eri, he truly did not have his brother’s skill in healing. What he did have, however, was control and knowledge, and sometimes that was enough.

He prodded the wound lightly and then let Hashirama’s instructions fill his find. ‘Gently’, he could hear him say, letting it take him back to times far less complicated, ‘people are more fragile than they look, much more so than fish. Imagine they are like… like the fox we saw a week ago. Press in with your chakra but, yes, just slow enough so the cells won’t think of you as an intruder. That’s it, just like that—'

Tobirama pinpointed the depth of the wound, let his senses hone on his target, and pushed his chakra outward from his hands. The green had a bluish tint to it and Tobirama carefully removed the traces of his water nature out of it until only pale green was left. He encouraged the cells to regrow themselves, push past the already forming scarification, and filled them with new life that wasn’t being stolen from the man.

As the wound closed, slow and steady from inside out, Tobirama raised his other hand, letting his own nature mingle with it, and pulled the blood out of the lung in a trickle of drops. It would not do if his efforts were in vain only because the man drowned when no one was looking. He had never really done this before but that had never stopped him before. The man’s—Osamu’s, if Kagami was correct—breath hitched and he coughed. Tobirama immediately began rubbing his chest where only faint lines were left, even as he continued to drain the blood, slowing the pace so it would let his air flow with relative ease.

When all was said and done, Tobirama sat back on his knees and watched the steady rise and fall of the man’s chest. He could no longer hear the roughness in it nor the rasp. He pushed his hair back, frowning as it came back wet; he was sweating. A glass of water was shoved in front of him and he grabbed it, swallowing it all in two large gulps. He hadn’t realised how thirsty he had been.

“Kagami’s in your bed,” Touka said. She pushed a bowl in Tobirama’s hands and snagged the glass back. “And you are going to join him in a moment.”

“I—”

“Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p’ in the way she knew annoyed him. “We have two of the strongest sensors soon bordering exhaustion. Madara’s going to be out of count the moment he sits down and you don’t have Hashirama’s endless energy either. We need one of you up on guard and Madara’s going to be throwing his senses out for the rest of the night.”

Tobirama couldn’t argue with that. However—

“I’ll keep watch. Unlike you, I haven’t just brought anyone back from the brink of death. I can crash in the morning.” Her smile grew sharper. “Unless you think I cannot watch over you both.”

“Of course you can,” he said, not even stopping to blink. “Don’t ask stupid questions. But you did train quite a bit today.”

“It’s not the same and you know it.”

She wasn’t wrong. He took a bite of the cold rice, just slightly seasoned, and swallowed. “So is that why you put him in my bed?”

Touka shrugged. “Easier to guard when both targets are in the same room.”

“Easier to attack too.”

“You really think anyone will try anything again tonight?” Touka threw an exaggerated look over her shoulder, out the window, where lights were swinging both due to the wind and the rushing shinobi.

Tobirama took another mouthful. “They would be idiots if they did,” he said. Before he knew it, he had already finished half the bowl. The frown was still stuck to his face though. “I don’t think I have ever seen anyone mould their bones the way they did.”

His cousin flicked her finger on his forehead and he wrinkled his nose at her in return. “If you start now, your brain will keep on going,” she said. “Tomorrow.”

“But—”

She pressed her hand over his mouth and said slowly, “To-mor-row.” She then smiled, tight and wicked. Tobirama found himself nodding and he let it go without a fight.

“Yes, Touka-nee.”

***

Tobirama awoke the way he always did, quick and ready to move. Years of war had taught him well and, unlike his brother, he had never seen a reason to linger in bed past the need for it. Kagami was still fast asleep, somehow managing to tangle himself with the sheets and Tobirama’s borrowed haori he hadn’t bothered to remove after retiring. It spoke more about Tobirama’s general exhaustion than anything else. He shrugged it off and Kagami immediately curled around it. He settled the blanket better over the child and rose himself, soundlessly tiptoeing towards the door.

_Thank you for saving Osamu’s life_, Amaterasu said, hovering near the window. She slid-walked to him and ducked under his arm when he held the door open for her.

“I wouldn’t let an ally die,” he answered. He spread his senses and found Touka on the roof with two other people. There was a third one by the front door and another making rounds around the house.

_I know. Still, I wanted to thank you._

“You are welcome.”

He found himself hungry again and poked around the kitchen enough to find the rest of the leftovers from yesterday. He took some for himself and put the rest away. Madara would need sustenance before he crashed. Touka had been right last night; there was no way he wouldn’t exhaust himself in the search.

_Do you want an update?_ Amaterasu asked_. I followed Madara around when Touka watched over you._

“Yes, I would. Thank you.”

Amaterasu quickly filled him in while he ate but it was nothing that Tobirama couldn’t have figured out himself. The prisoners alive refused to talk and one of the attackers had managed to kill himself in captivity. Three people had been found loitering near the compound and two had been killed and the last one was being pursued. Tobirama doubted they would make it out alive either. He stretched his senses further, trying to see if he could pinpoint them. Surprisingly, he managed it; they had to have made a turnaround at some point and therefore not made it out of his reach, although it was clear the chase was still on.

And Madara—

_He’s going to fetch you soon_, she said. _He wants you and I there when he goes to speak with Yuji._

“Yuji,” Tobirama repeated. “The turncoat?”

_Yes. He is Kikyo’s grandchild._

Tobirama remembered her well. She had relented on her glaring doubts only after he had mentioned her sister’s name. “And she doesn’t have any trace of… Kaguya?”

_Zetsu, in her stead,_ she corrected him._ And no, she doesn’t. Not like Kagami did._

“Can we trust her?”

Amaterasu was quiet. She sat delicately in the air above the table, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. _I would like to say so_, she murmured. _They are my people. I do not like thinking of them as my enemies._

“But?”

_…I wouldn’t have thought they would have done this either. She_ lowered her head and stared at Tobirama from behind her hair. _I _need_ to go to the temple today._

Tobirama swallowed the last of the rice and grabbed the rest he had put away, rolling it into something easier to carry. He could feel Madara disengaging and marching towards them. “We’ll go after this,” he promised.

Amaterasu nodded decisively and hopped to her feet. Tobirama followed and emulated Touka as he shoved the rice into Madara’s hands when they went to meet him by the door. “Eat,” he ordered. “Amaterasu filled me in. Unless you have found anything more than capture a couple of them?”

Madara’s jaw snapped close and he took automatically took the bounded rice Tobirama had rolled into uneven and crumbly balls. There were dark circles around his eyes and his shoulders were in a barely noticeable slump. Touka’s hunch had been correct; the moment Madara stopped, he would keel over from fatigue alone.

“Where’s your haori?” Madara blurted out before seemingly regretting it and stuffing the rice into his face. Tobirama merely blinked and remembered his sleep-rumpled state.

“Kagami has it.”

Madara shook his head and shouldered past him. Tobirama almost scolded at him not to go wake him up before one in the shade of dark purple was thrown at him.

“Use that,” Madara grumbled and closed the door behind him more gently this time. “We need to go.”

Tobirama eyed the piece of clothing in his hands but decided the matter was not worth to fight about. He quickly dressed in the slightly too big haori and followed Madara where he was making his way to the east side of the compound, the opposite of the route they had taken yesterday. The haori was warmer than he had thought, and the scent reminded him vaguely of lemongrass and something familiar he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It took him a moment to realise that it was Madara’s scent he was carrying.

The thought… wasn’t as off-putting as he once might have thought. Most of his discomfort actually came from the realisation how little it _did_ bother him.

_It looks good on you_, Amaterasu teased. Tobirama frowned at her—there was undoubtedly a bigger than average uchiwa embroidered at the back—and then his senses pinged.

“Madara,” he immediately said. “Twenty-three miles northwest, your clanmates are in a battle against three of those we saw yesterday. The one they were chasing got backup.”

Madara snarled and yelled his orders. Six Uchiha were past the walls before Tobirama had managed to take two breaths. The Uchiha clan head looked like he wanted to follow them but, instead, he stomped to a nondescript house and, when inside it, downstairs from there. Tobirama glanced behind them at the closing door and took the steps down as well.

It was cleverly hidden, he had to admit, another thing in plain sight. He could see a pattern emerging. No doubt there were cells elsewhere that were more the ones usually expected, more for show than anything else. When his eyes got used to the dark, he found Madara dragging a dark-haired man against the metal of the bars, chakra-suppression seals carved on them, the empty cloth he had used to wrap the leftovers with lying on the floor. The Uchiha didn’t use many seals—Tobirama doubted anyone did who didn’t have direct contact with the Uzumaki—but they had clearly had some encounters with those that did. He wondered if any of them were Senju.

He shook the thought from his head when Madara yelled, “It’ll be _your_ fault if your cousin dies! What you did is unforgivable and I am going to _wring your neck_ after I get what I want from you!”

“Y-you sent out _Fumiko_?” the man—Yuji—choked out. “Why—you can’t—”

“She’s the one who found them and had the right to end them,” Madara spat and let the man go. He crumpled on the floor like a sad sack of human waste. “If she does perish, we all know who to blame.”

Amaterasu walked past the spot Tobirama stood at. She went through the bars like they were not there—or that she wasn’t, more accurately speaking—and stood watching Yuji splutter on the ground. She reached over him with her hand, fingers splayed wide, before she took one step backwards with her eyes twice as large.

“What is it?” Tobirama asked quietly. Madara continued to berate the man on the floor who yelled back, something about them being dragged down, how the only way to survive would be to—

_There was nothing there._

“What?”

Amaterasu blinked and she tilted her head in Tobirama’s direction. Her cheeks had a definite shine to them, trickling down like pearls.

_He has completely forsaken me of his own free will. There is_, she rubbed her cheek absently with her sleeve, _there is nothing I can touch; there is nothing I can _do_._

The frown on Tobirama’s face grew more severe and he stared at the captive Uchiha, who had now found his legs again. There was nothing particular about him that stood out, he thought. Dark hair like the rest of them, straight in a messy braid to his upper back, about Madara’s height but younger, clothes the same shades they all used. He tried to figure out what made him so special they sought him out and no one else… or was he so weak that he would fall for Kaguya’s ploys even without outside influence?

The door opened behind them and Tobirama didn’t have to turn to know who it was; his senses had told him that already. As had Madara’s.

“Kikyo, I told you I am not entertaining your stubbornness today,” he snarled. “Go away.”

The woman did not. She walked down the stairs and past Tobirama. He remembered her angry and full of conviction, head held high despite her wrongfooting. The Kikyo whose back he saw was not that woman, not with the white in her hair being more pronounced when let down and her back in a slump with invisible weight.

“Yuji,” she said, ignoring Madara although she stayed a good couple of feet from the cell.

“Grandmother!” Yuji exclaimed. He seemed to cheer up by merely seeing her. “You are here!”

Madara narrowed his eyes and he spat out, “You are a relative of the traitor. You do _not_ belong down here.”

Kikyo stared at Yuji before she turned to Madara and bowed her head. “Madara-sama,” she greeted him. “I request I can stay to hear what Uchiha Yuji has to say. I vow I will not interrupt the proceedings and—I just… need to hear him myself. Please.” She bent over her clasped hands. Madara’s eyes flicked on Tobirama before moving back to her.

“Fine,” was the only thing he said. He turned his back to her and Tobirama took a few steps forward. He was rather sure she would not try anything—her chakra seemed lifeless in comparison to only a few days back—but if last night had taught him anything, he should expect the unexpected.

“You too, grandmother?” Yuji said, shaking his head, joy dimming as his mouth twisted. “But I thought—you always said to look towards the sky. Why aren’t you now?”

Kikyo seemed taken aback. “Of course I am,” she said. “We face the light for Amaterasu-sama sees wherever it reaches.”

But Yuji only shook his head again. His hands gripped the metal, knuckles white. “You aren’t listening. All the times you told me to, I did. But you can only look for the sun for so long before it _hurts_.”

“We are not meant to look _for_ her; we wait for her to graze us with the summer of our lives and join her laughter when she—”

The metal clanked against the metal of his bindings. “But who wants to _wait_?!” Yuji argued. “You all waited, and for _what_? A Senju to take what was ours? No, _she_ gave up on us _first_. But you know, don’t you, how there _is_ someone who we can look to without the pain. The _moon_.”

Madara sent Tobirama a grim look over Kikyo’s head which he answered with one of his own.

“We aren’t like the _Hyuuga_,” Kikyo sneered, the expression twisting her face into something Tobirama found more familiar now that the look of vulnerability was wiped from it. Between Yuji and her, he could now see the resemblance. It was rather unflattering. “We are the _source_, not the reflection.”

“This is not about _that_!” Yuji’s voice echoed in the small room. “It’s about those who care! You always said to look for the one who cared, but if Amaterasu cared a shit about us, then why does her light hurt us so? Why hasn’t she been here? I looked for her, grandmother, I did, but she was never there! Not when mother was killed, not when my little sister and brother were hunted down like rabid _dogs_!” Yuji spat on the ground, eyes a blazing black when they tried to meet Tobirama’s. Instinctually he only looked at his nose; it would be arrogance to stare into the eyes of the enemy, no matter how apparently at a disadvantage.

Amaterasu let out a broken little noise from where she was hovering. Kikyo was not done arguing, however. “This is not the way!” she yelled, taking a step forward. “You look for the life we are granted, not… whatever this twisted thing is that you have found!”

“Kaguya-sama will set things right,” the mad Uchiha claimed, turning back to Kikyo. “She will watch over us, the way you taught me a god should. She already has, has been here when no one else was! You preached about finding guidance and now you lecture me for doing exactly that?!” He laughed. “The sooner you accept that Amaterasu has deceived you all, the quicker you can see the true light when our eyes meet bleed the moon red, just as the Stone Tablet said!”

Kikyo stared at him, words dying on her lips. She gave Yuji one last look, filled with denial, sorrow, anger and acceptance, all within the span of a breath. She turned to Madara and bowed again, only lower than when she arrived. “My grandson is dead,” she said, voice steady with how bland it was, all emotions locked in with the tears she refused to shed. “And so is my line with him. I will defer to whatever decision you make, my lord.”

“Grandmother!”

Kikyo lifted her chin and swept past them back upstairs without a look spared at the pitiful man she had forsaken. There was no respite, however, as Madara slammed his hand on the bars.

“And how,” he growled, voice low and rumbling like the looming thunder. “How did you find the Stone Tablet, the location of which only the main house knows?”

Yuji glared at him and refused to speak now that there was no discord to be sowed. The toothy grin that spread on Madara’s face was almost gleeful and washed away some of the defiance he was facing.

“I will enjoy making you speak.”

***

There was cruelty in the world that could not be excused and cruelty that could. Tobirama was not sure which Yuji’s interrogation fell under but he could not find it in himself to pity the man either way. He was alive when they left him, his spirit unbroken unlike the lock on his tongue that let enough slip for them to piece everything together. There would be two more Uchiha to be imprisoned, a set of twins that were on a long-term mission right now, but they were not due back until a few weeks from now and thus none of their concern for now.

What _was_ next on their list was the fact that Madara would be scheduling Yuji’s execution before they would return. Among many other things they had found out that he was the reason Kagami was an orphan, now twice over with his guardian killed just like how Yuji’s loose tongue had his mother. Tobirama did not want to think what that was going to do to the child. He was glad he knew Touka would keep watch over him until they came back; otherwise he might have taken a turn towards Madara’s house despite his promise to Amaterasu. At the very least the shinobi Madara had sent as back up to Fumiko and the rest were on their way home with no more Uchiha dead at the bone men’s hands. Some good news was better than none.

Madara motioned for him to stay and he did, watching as he barked orders for the Uchiha to gather around and jumped on the nearby roof to wait. Tobirama did not follow him this time, only took a step back, and stood with Amaterasu at the edge of the gathering crowd. He spotted Kikyo there as well; evidently, she hadn’t made it far enough to lick her wounds in peace.

“At the very least she is loyal,” Tobirama said. He held his tongue for he could find no other word that would not be insulting in describing her. Amaterasu sighed.

_She believes but only what she wants_, she said quietly. She sent a pale ball of light, made it dance in front of Kikyo, but it faded away when the elder did not even twitch. _She will never be one of those who see me. She is… not her sister._

Ah. “What was Kaede-san like?”

A small smile played on Amaterasu’s lips. _Curious. Happy. She loved life more than anything. She was sheltered due to her condition and, maybe, thus spared from Kaguya’s poison._ Amaterasu looked wistfully at the light dancing in the nearby window. _I would have given her anything she asked for, but she only wanted to make the time she had count. Had I not interfered, she would have made it to her teens if not young adulthood, but just as tied to her bed as she was. When she asked me to fuel her life with the time she had left, I could not say no to her, and I mourned when the time came for her to pass._

She traced a symbol Tobirama had come to know was hers and hers only. _Perhaps, had I not done that, I could have made a difference long before this. But when she asked…_

Perhaps. But as they had already established, playing with the ‘maybes’ only made one miserable. “You gave her what she wanted,” he said. “No one can begrudge you for that.”

_I am a foolish god, _she said, but her harsh words did not reflect in her serene smile. _People can begrudge me for several reasons and they would be in the right to do that. I may have been selfish in wanting to make her happy, but she only ever wanted to dance with her sister, and she did. I cannot make myself apologise for that._

“Uchiha!” Madara bellowed, silencing Tobirama and Amaterasu as they turned to listen what he had to say. “Thanks to your efforts, we have managed to fix much of what the turncoats have attempted to undermine our position. We are much stronger now than we were yesterday. You have my thanks.

“However,” he continued, “it has come to light that the corruption has become poison in our midst. You do not have to look at your neighbour and ask yourself whether they are the enemy or not. The men you saw attacking us yesterday are, as is their false god who has attempted to turn us against our own patron goddess.” There were numerous gasps and outraged yells at that, but Madara pushed on, his voice carrying over the pandemonium.

“Do not fret! Amaterasu has heard our plight and is looking into it with us. I will ask you to keep your eyes open and come to me immediately if you sense wrongness in anything you see or hear. I don’t care if it feels trivial. We are going to get to the bottom of it and will fish out the last of this mess and come out stronger for it!”

The outrage morphed into cheers and Tobirama saw more than a few Uchiha look his way; he couldn’t blend in with them, no matter his clothes. His hair and eyes made sure of that. He absently dragged a finger on one of the lines on his cheeks. He was… rather used to the changes already. They—for some reason, they felt like home to him.

Madara made a string of fire that spread above their heads, catching their attention again. “Which is why,” he said. “I am going to disband the council of elders, effective immediately.”

The silence his declaration brought was sudden and the cheer was immediately cut as the mood turned back to solemn. “Under the recent revelations, I cannot give my full trust to those who have driven us to this point. I will hear them, and you, but we are at war now against an enemy we do not know, so I will seize control as the clan head should.” The stomp of his leg against the roof echoed. “I will make sure _we_ are the ones dancing on _their_ graves and that they regret _ever_ trying to make fools out of us!”

Tobirama watched as Madara swept his eyes over the crowd, taking in how his people were taking in his words. Amaterasu had floated above them all, her hands spread and beckoning, looking for any traces of Zetsu’s influence. He, however, was more interested in Madara. The man stood with his back straight, hair as wild as usual, and ready to defend his stance; he wasn’t afraid of not pleasing his own if needs must. Tobirama found himself relating to him. While Hashirama wasn’t afraid of it either, case in point putting Tobirama’s safety above his wants, but he was… more attuned to how people felt, understanding of them, and thus willing to please them. Yet, even with Tobirama’s skill as a sensor, he had long since admitted that he didn’t have his brother’s natural aptitude with people.

They were both strong leaders in their own way, Madara and Hashirama. Their circumstances and traditions were different but they both held hope for the better, for… peace. And, perhaps, for the first time, Tobirama could see it happening. In the middle of all this chaos, the belief in them and their dream was growing within him. If it was them… they could do it, Tobirama thought.

It was… a rather sobering realisation but, now that he had had it, the decision was already made for him. They would have peace. They would get over the winter and the war, find a way through it all, and make for a better future for all of them. Together. The Senju and the Uchiha. And, perhaps, with enough time…

He would have to start planning. Creating a shinobi village when there had been none before would be another challenge he was now looking forward to overcome.

When Madara’s eyes finally found him, Tobirama inclined his head and spread his chakra enough for it to reach Madara’s, wordlessly telling him… well, Tobirama couldn’t say everything that it would reveal. But based on the surprised look and the tinge of pure joy he received back his sentiment was shared.

Madara would not be alone. Tobirama would support him in this.

And, with the way determination set in the face of the Uchiha and they roared in response, so would they.


	17. Madara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! It's been a while. Between piles of work, hunting for a new job, and general exhaustion, I haven't had time for much writing. But now I have only some exams left to grade, a new job waiting for me come August, and soon two months of holiday, so I hope to be able to make up for these past couple of months.
> 
> Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Madara woke up slowly, feeling rather disoriented and with his head aching. The past two weeks had not been kind to him nor any of them really. He still felt the exhaustion from the night they caught Yuji, the bone deep feeling of failure of not having seen the changes within his clan. He peered out of the closest window and groaned. Earlier in the morning, he had left Hikaku’s mother in charge and went on to fall to his bed without a second thought after a night of stretching his senses to cover the ground their patrols ran. As he now saw the sun slowly falling beyond the horizon, it was clear that certain people had let his nap go past what it was supposed to be.

His stomach growled and he yawned, dragging himself up from the bed. He stumbled to his closet, pulling out clothes that did not smell like something had died in them. He would have to take a bath soon enough, he thought absently, groaning softly. Heating the water was such a pain and he did not have the time for it. He would need to find Kotori and—

The complaining from his midsection got louder.

“I’m going,” he grunted to no one and pulled his unwashed hair up, tying it into a bun the way Izuna sometimes did when he was bored and his hands started wandering in search of things to do. Goddammit, he missed his little brother. The only reason he wasn’t running to the Senju compound right now was that he knew Hashirama would rather die than hurt Madara’s brother. Or let him be hurt. His shoulders cracked when he went to roll them, muscles screaming for a good stretch.

Madara walked downstairs, the light scent of what had to be dinner giving a whiff in the air. There was light chatter as well, but the voices were subdued, almost careful. Madara braced himself and stepped in.

“What’s for dinner?” he grunted, glancing around to see if anything was amiss. Kagami was cuddled to Tobirama’s side, half-hidden inside the mix of Senju and Uchiha clothing that Tobirama had taken to wearing after the attack. Touka was there as well, hair wet and dark circles around her eyes as if she hadn’t gotten as much sleep as she desired, leaning heavily on her arms on the other side of the table.

Tobirama gestured in front of him where rice—more rice, Madara inwardly sighed—was sitting, a bowl of miso soup, and a plateful of… inarizushi. Madara frowned at him.

“Satsuki-san sent us some,” Tobirama said. Kagami shifted, a quiet murmur making past his lips. It was only then that Madara realised the kid was fast asleep. He slumped down next to Touka, grabbing himself a serving, and started to eat. He flicked his chopsticks in Kagami’s direction, brows raised in a clear question.

“He had a nightmare about his aunt and mother,” Touka mumbled, head nodding. “After Tobi got home, he hasn’t let go of him.”

Ah… shit. Madara was quickly reminded of everything unpleasant that he remembered and his sharingan had recorded. He hated that the little ball of everything good in an Uchiha would be living his life remembering that awful night with picture perfect memory.

“Go to bed, Touka,” Tobirama reprimanded her softly. “Madara’s awake now; it’s your turn to rest.”

She glared at Tobirama, but it was without heat, her exhaustion taking a toll at her. “You are younger than me,” came the complaint but she stood up regardless, shuffling towards where Madara had come from. “You can’t order me around.”

“As you say, cousin.”

Touka thumped her fist lightly on Tobirama’s head and then tousled the white locks for good measure. “And don’t you forget about it, smartass.” That said she was gone, only a few creaks from the stairs indicating her retreat.

Madara turned his attention back to Kagami. Just as with Touka, there were dark circles, but also dried tear tracks running down his cheeks. “How is he?”

“Bad.” Tobirama rolled his left shoulder, pulling Kagami slightly upwards from where he had been about to fall down to Tobirama’s lap. “But he is strong.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier.”

Tobirama tilted his head at Madara after the quiet grumble. “No,” he agreed. “No, it doesn’t.”

Madara stuffed a piece of inarizushi in his mouth and chewed rather aggressively. “Any word from Kotori?” His answer was a mere shake of head. “Fuck. Guess it’s useless to ask about Hashirama either.”

Tobirama hummed in agreement, tilting his own lukewarm bowl of soup to sip on it. They had attempted to make contact with the Senju for two weeks but to no avail. The scheduled meeting had been impossible to attend, what with everything going with the clan, and they had managed to get a reply for that, asking for another date, but after that it had been complete silence. No hawks had returned and the one summons they had sent had reported having been ambushed by something it hadn’t been able to sense. After that, even when Tobirama offered to try his teleportation trick—and hadn’t that been a wonder to see up close; the man hid a frightening brain under that white fluff he called his hair—Madara had declined.

They had no knowledge if that could be intercepted as well.

“Shouldn’t have executed Yuji so quickly,” Madara mumbled into his dinner-slash-breakfast.

“You already scoured his mind for as much as he knew,” Tobirama replied as he had the past five times Madara has said the exact same thing. He set the empty bowl back on the table.

“Nothing from the twins either?”

“No.”

Traitors, the lot of them. Madara suffocated his curses with one last bite before thanked for the food and stood to wash the dishes. Tobirama’s eyes followed him as he tried to quietly muck about the kitchen but when Kagami made a noise of discontent both Madara and Tobirama’s attention flew to him. With a gentle comb of the messy hair and a sliver of chakra Kagami slumped against Tobirama again. The precision that calming technique required still blew Madara’s mind.

“Amaterasu finally finished with the shrine too.”

“Yeah?” Madara turned his back to him but waved his hand for him to continue. He scrubbed the dishes as carefully as he could as not to make so much noise.

“There was nothing in the shrine itself as I mentioned before. But… we did find more tampering, the changes more explicit with the rites. The priests were inconsolable, but Kikyo-san basically threw herself at them and has been able to keep them busy with correcting their rituals and prayers with Amaterasu’s occasional input. Kensuke-san, while still disapproving,”—Madara’s uncle had _not_ been happy at the fact that a Senju was supposed to have a look at some of their most guarded objects—“was helpful in interpreting the tablet as well.”

“And what did it say?”

There was a pause and Madara braced himself.

“It had also some alterations made on it,” Tobirama said finally. Madara bit his lip until he tasted blood, but he managed to keep his temper in check. When he was sure he would not accidentally combust, he let out a sigh and wiped his mouth. The back of his hand came back red and he washed it off with the remaining water.

“Thank you,” he said finally. “What did you find there?”

Tobirama rose from his seat and Madara turned back to see him lifting Kagami with him. “I will take him to Touka,” he said. “This conversation is better handled when you see it for yourself.”

That bad, huh, Madara thought grimly as he waved him off. He went to grab cloaks for them as they had moved the Stone Tablet to the shrine to stay under heavy guard. Given its possible state, there had been no reason to keep it hidden; Amaterasu’s gift to their ancestors was now mere evidence against their enemies.

They were out just as the last sunrays left them in the dark, heavy clouds hiding even stars from them. Madara breathed life into the few lanterns that had died as they walked. He managed to wave down Kotori just as she was about to retire and the report the no-nonsense woman—who had managed to pass the best of her traits to her son—had little to no changes as to what the situation had been in the morning. She politely bowed on her way out, both at Madara and Tobirama, who answered in kind.

It was somewhat of a marvel how the past two weeks had also done wonders to the relations between the Senju amongst with them and the Uchiha themselves. While there had been little vocal dissent before the attack, only the most stubborn had refused to interact with the Senju afterwards. Now it wasn’t unusual to see Touka wander about the compound and help out wherever she could nor for Tobirama to visit the sickbay or shrine or any other spot that usually were off-limits to visitors. As they were also some with the most Uchiha blood on their hands, the change was… both surprising and something Madara was extremely grateful about.

While the treatment might not extend to the whole of the Senju yet—and Madara wasn’t sure he was ready for that either, their shared past just as big part of him as for the rest of them—but it was a better start than Madara could have hoped for especially with the recent events in mind.

But there were still the occasional few idiots.

“Is there anyone I need to go yell at tomorrow?”

Tobirama tilted his head back, eyes to the sky as if to express his suffering, even if the only effect was exposing the long, distracting column that was his neck.

“No, Madara.”

“Good.”

Soon enough they arrived at the shrine and walked in with the guards keeping a close eye on them for any suspicious move. Madara had called for constant vigilance even with him as he could not be sure if someone would try to steal his likeness. At this hour there was no one there with them so they sat where the tablet was, the candles around them softening the dark shadows with their glow.

“Amaterasu says she would like to apologise again,” Tobirama said, breaking the peace between them. Madara scoffed.

“And I have told her just as many times where to shove it. Apology not accepted.”

The look that was thrown his way was dry. “You do know she won’t stop until you do.”

Madara rolled his shoulders. They didn’t crack as badly this time. “That is her problem. Now, what bad news do I need to swallow this time?”

Tobirama pursed his lips. “We speculate—”

“No, no,” Madara interrupted instantly and got a red-eyed glare for his effort. “Give me facts first. I don’t want to mix guessing game and the truth.”

“The truth,” Tobirama repeated and then bluntly stated, “is that your clan has been committing deeds not meant for worshipping Amaterasu. Not just in wording, but otherwise as well. Amaterasu is an advocate for peace which, while she understands is not always possible and sometimes even required breaking, often separates her from those who are the thirstiest for blood and revenge. The ongoing conflicts are causing dissonance between you.”

It was something Madara had already considered so he merely nodded. “What else?”

“Your eyes.”

That caught his attention. Sharingan, the most visible of her gifts; if it had been manipulated as well—

But Tobirama shook his head. “The gift is, as much as we can gather, as it used to be in the past.”

Madara let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “Then what is it?”

“Amaterasu gave you the eyes to record the happy times to be remembered when the world is taking its toll on you. However, due to Kaguya’s influence within your clan, you are recording more and more trauma while using it in battles rather than memorising the events that would help you get over them; the activation trigger of strong emotions is obviously not optimal for what she had tried gifting you.” The look in Tobirama’s eyes got distant in the way that told he was no longer focusing on anyone Madara could see.

“You need to understand that when your people found her and she took you under her wing the world was much different to what it is now. This is something she wishes to apologise too. She has caused undue harm to you despite her good intentions.”

That—

“_This_ apology is accepted.” Madara pressed a hand over his eyes, thinking back to the memories forever branded within his brain where the bad obviously outweighed the good. “Though it is not only me who needs to hear that.”

“We are working on it.”

Madara scowled, squinting his eyes at Tobirama, but no further explanation came. Instead, Tobirama added, “The trauma is also causing your eyesight to deteriorate as the balance is thrown. The more horrors you witness and the less you counter it, the more toll it takes on her gift. It wasn’t something that she had foreseen to become a problem, hadn’t even realised it until… Kensuke-san did.” Tobirama’s brows knitted together. “You do know he is nearly blind, don’t you?”

“It is why you often find Kikyo with him,” Madara said as he stared at the tablet. So many things— “Kaguya was making us into her slaves, but only for as long as we have some value to her.” And, had this gone long enough, they may have even thanked her for it.

Tobirama stayed silent as Madara fumed next to him. This was what Yuji saw as the best alternative? _This_? This was— “Unforgivable.” A thought came to his mind. “Mangekyou is still all hers, right? Amaterasu’s?”

“Her defence for her beloved people.”

Only twisted into something it never should have become. Madara could see how every gift could be used to benefit his people during peace, named after those Amaterasu had loved best: Tsukuyomi for reliving and sharing joys of the past; Susanoo for protection and shelter when there was none to be found; Amaterasu’s own fire to lit a flame that wouldn’t be extinguished, offering warmth and—

“Wait.”

Tobirama blinked at him, the confusion softening his face in ways Madara couldn’t help but approve, but this, there was— “Her fire. Her fire used to be white, didn’t it?” His suspicion was soon confirmed when Tobirama nodded. “Well, it is not anymore. You saw the black flames. Kaguya’s people were waiting for it and they didn’t burn, seemed even empowered, until I saw streaks of pure white flash within them and they died like they should have been since the fire touched them.”

“Her words,” Tobirama murmured, frown deepening on his face. “Her name. Her corruption.” Then he gestured at the tablet. “Kensuke-san told me that he could see cracks in the changes made with his mangekyou. Amaterasu’s last defence against your enemies.”

Madara fed chakra to his eyes, more than he had ever used to look at the tablet for just a second—

But that one second was enough.

Madara abruptly stood up and stalked back outside without even bothering to greet the guards. Tobirama caught up to him soon. They ended up walking back to Madara’s house but, instead of going inside, they went around until they stood by the pond Madara had many fond memories of; the pond his mother used to love, where she would tell them tales of days long gone.

“We are sitting ducks,” Madara said. “Surrounded by who knows fuck all.”

“Yet we are already countering her plots in ways she did not, _does_ not, expect.”

Madara inclined his head in agreement. What they had done was not all for nothing. But their storages were emptying at a worrying rate as they could no longer hunt nor try trading for more. “We need to figure out how to get a word for Hashirama… and when is the likeliest time we will be attacked.”

Because they would be. Now that the time for subterfuge was over, there was no other alternative than forcing the issue. Considering the timing and where her powers lied…

He should have realised it sooner. “Three weeks.”

“What?”

“The battle will be in three weeks.” Madara leaned back to stare at the moon that had only now found a way to shine down on the from behind the clouds. “Tsukuyomi’s celebration is then and her prison will be the weakest. They will attempt to break her out then.”

“So that is what it meant…” Tobirama murmured. When Madara narrowed his eyes on him, he elaborated, “Kensuke-san managed to read something about an ‘Infinite Tsukuyomi’ from the Stone Tablet. It corroborates with what we heard from Yuji: ‘you can see the true light when our eyes meet bleed the moon red’.”

Madara twisted his head to watch the moon. Was it even possible? It had to be. But— “There is no reason to assume the Uchiha as a clan would do that. Not in mere three weeks’ time.”

“We forced the issue.”

_We_.

Madara felt his cheeks heat up in the cold air. “Desperate times, desperate measures…” he mused, refusing to look anywhere else than the sky above. “If we don’t do so willingly, then we should do so under threats. Reasonable enough, I suppose. There is little an Uchiha will not do for their loved ones.” And many will go mad when that generous heart has been bled dry.

Tobirama’s answering hum was abruptly cut and Madara tilted his head in his direction. Red eyes in a slit were directed his way, something that looked like consideration in them. Madara whirled around and marched towards the backdoor.

“It’s getting cold and you need to retire while you still are able to get some shuteye.” He then spread his senses, able to see just how little there was to see. The peace around them was deceptive in its lulling calm. “I will keep watch and continue your work.”

This time Tobirama was slower in his steps, following Madara inside only when he held the door with an impatient look on his face.

“Yes… Madara.”

***

Madara drummed his fingers against his desk as he frowned into their notes. Tobirama had written everything down Kensuke and he had found out, everything Amaterasu could recall, but it still came down to that there was no way the Uchiha could counter whatever forces Kaguya had. Unless more of them had managed to knock themselves out of the funk, maybe, but there were only so many who had mangekyou to protect them. With the taxing it still had on the user, it was no path to victory.

They would need allies.

He tapped the papers again and shifted on his seat. With a quick spread of his senses, he took count of the patrols sent out. They were running as they should be, trailing the most efficient route there was. His quill at hand, he wrote down the name Senju and then stared at it.

For once he was not sanctioning a mission against their lifelong rivals nor gathering their forces for a skirmish or outright battle. For once the name meant an ally, someone to depend on. His mind flashed to the innocent times when he only knew a boy with a terrible haircut. Unbidden his thoughts wandered to the person slumbering in the room nearby, cool chakra coiling around a crackle of fire that had woken up from yet another nightmare.

When this was over—

Madara shook his head violently and refocused on the scroll in front of him. He dipped his pen in ink and wrote down Hyuuga as well. As much as it pained him—and he truly disliked the clan of self-righteous hiveminds—they would be a welcome ally and were possibly one of the only reasons Kaguya hadn’t been freed yet. They were stout believers of Tsukuyomi and a source of strength for the poor sod who had volunteered to take care of her. Though since their god wasn’t so bad, apparently, perhaps the clan itself…

Ugh. No.

He wrote down the names of Nara, Yamanaka, and Akimichi, but crossed them out soon enough. It would take too long to count them in even if they were interested in helping out. They didn’t have a similar reason to the Hyuuga to endanger themselves either for… what? A few gods at odds with each other? They would be wise to stay back and take their chance with the eventual fallout.

Inuzuka? As with Hatake, they would consider their family first. Aburame? Curious. They might. He wrote them down but added a question mark after their name. Hagoromo? Despite being allies with the Uchiha, there was no way Madara was trusting them with something like this. In the worst case they would join their enemy… if they hadn’t already, the opportunistic bastards. Madara made a new column in which he added their name.

Slowly he went through all the names of the shinobi clans, major and minor, within radius of a few hundred miles. There was little reason to suspect they would be able to get a message out for them too, but they just would have to try and find a way. Perhaps if they applied—

There was a shift within his senses and Madara felt an odd sense of… _absence_ coming from the east side of the forest. Where there had been life just a moment ago had mostly just air left; the little bits of chakra animals emitted were not hidden, per se, but… cloaked? Still there but muted. But the thing that piqued his interest the most was that the feeling was _familiar_.

It was just what he had been waiting for.

And it was right where a patrol was supposed to be heading to.

Madara knew he wouldn’t be quick enough to arrive at the spot that reeked of nothing truly wrong, so he spiked his chakra in a pattern he had instilled in his clansmen less than two weeks ago. Immediately all of them changed their routes, turning back towards the compound as if the Shinigami himself was after them. He could feel Tobirama snap awake, that rush of swirling power brushing against his.

But Madara focused on the spot in the east, brows furrowed and shoulders tense. His quill snapped in his grip and spilled ink, but he could barely feel the wetness slide over his knuckles.

And then, when all the Uchiha outside the walls were home, the odd feeling slid away as if it hadn’t been there at all. Madara pushed his chair back and rose, meeting Tobirama’s narrowed look with a grin that revealed all his teeth.

His gamble had paid off, he cheered darkly, gesturing Tobirama to follow him as he went to gather the reports that probably would not have anything new to add. Two long weeks of nothing, of feeling on the edge due to deliberately not making any changes to the patrol routes, but now he knew _exactly_ what to look for when Kaguya’s men came knocking. Even with the twins at their side, knowing secrets no outsider should, they would no longer be able to take the Uchiha by surprise.

He laughed.

_Gotcha_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think of the twist I put on the sharingan? I quite like the idea of it!


	18. Tobirama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (a little late) midsummer all!

Tobirama cursed as the clone fizzled out of existence the moment he summoned it. His focus on modifying his shadow clones—incomplete as the design was, taking huge chunks of chakra with minimal benefits considering how weak they were when a cut was enough to dismiss them—was shot. He pinched the skin on the bridge of his nose.

It was hard to keep his temper in check when he wanted nothing more than to wring Madara’s neck.

“The thoughtful, thoughtless _idiot_,” Tobirama snarled at the air in front of him. For two weeks the man had practically run himself ragged just because he deemed that his _responsibility_. What if they had been attacked? He would have been running on fumes and not much else!

_It’s not like you haven’t done the same_, Amaterasu helpfully pointed out.

“Shut up.” He combed his hair back from where it fell and wished he still had his happuri. It was far easier to manage with something to pull it back. The glaring implications from yesterday did not help keeping his calm either.

Madara cared. About him.

And not just because of Amaterasu.

The realisation left Tobirama feel very much unbalanced. He knew the Uchiha were special—they felt stronger than most, Amaterasu’s gifts notwithstanding—and he knew that extended only to those they trusted. It implied Madara had faith in him deeply, completely, without a doubt… and they had only known each other for a handful of weeks outside of battles.

Tobirama could not figure out why that was or why that bothered him so much. He had done nothing but what was logical or necessary. He trusted Madara to act in certain ways. He trusted that the Uchiha would not turn their back on their goddess so easily. He even trusted in that Madara wanted peace desperately, that some of the clan were ready to accept the possibility, but to completely trust that they would do no harm to his person or people he cared about? _That_ he wasn’t so sure about. Without meaning his hands found the sleeves of the shirt he had worn when arriving here; he could feel Hashirama’s seeds push against the little chakra he caressed them with. His brother no doubt felt it, knew he was alive and well.

It… was not something he had shared with Madara yet. Tobirama wondered what that said about him. While he could not send a message through the seeds imbued with Hashirama’s chakra, he still had them as last defence. Was it something he should have told him? Especially with Madara running himself to the ground to protect his people, Touka… Tobirama.

Tobirama had given him mostly everything he could, except his complete trust. In the light of recent events, it did feel quite… dishonest. He had grown to care about him too and could even admit he admired the way Madara approached his people with caring so fierce it bordered violent. While Tobirama was reserved in nature, subtler in his show of affection, Madara was not. He broadcasted, whether he wanted to or not, and it was easy to see why he was so well-loved within the clan.

At the same time, though, it was pushing against all the boundaries Tobirama had set for himself so long ago. Touka had noticed. The past week she had kept leaving him and Madara alone together without even bothering to be subtle about it. More and more she had gone to make rounds around the compound, insisted on helping where she could when Tobirama was too busy to figure out the fine details.

He grunted and swivelled around, finding himself seeking shelter in the backyard Madara had shown him. The pond was quaint, not too deep at all, but it snaked around the yard, giving it a larger look than it actually was. He had not dared to explore the house without given permission—it would have been rude to their host—but, as it had been shown to him, he was more than comfortable to take advance of the peace and quiet it offered him.

Amaterasu glided after him and watched as he pushed chakra into the still unfrozen water, twirling it into air in patterns he used to entertain his students and… younger brothers with. The pain of loss still twisted his insides and he missed them, missed Hashirama, all the more. He had been on missions longer than this before, but he had never liked staying away from his only living brother for longer than a few days at a time despite his exhausting theatrics.

Hashirama was the sun his moon followed. It was ironic, then, that the Sun Goddess herself chose him to do her justice.

“Whoa…”

Tobirama did not even twitch as he had felt the curious little spark wander in his direction. Kagami’s gasp of awe made him smile softly, so reminiscent of Itama that the familiar ache returned tenfold, only to be soothed when the wonder in the child’s face was directed at him.

“Can you do any shape you want?” Kagami asked, sitting down and cuddling close to Tobirama. The boy had started to seek more physical comfort since the attack and Tobirama did not have the heart to deny him. The poor child had had to endure a lot.

“Yes,” he said. After a few quiet beats, he added, “What would you like to see?”

The fabric twisted under Kagami’s grip. “I can decide?”

“You may.”

“Then…” Kagami mulled it over for a bit, before hesitatingly requested, “I want to hear the story of Amaterasu and how she came to our clan.”

Tobirama did not know the tale but was not phased with the elaborate request. He had been asked much worse. He turned to the goddess who stared at the child with a wet glimmer. She licked her lips and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her long robe. She nodded and Tobirama inclined his head back, ready to narrate the story she would tell. Before she could start, he leaned down and whispered to the child, remembering what Amaterasu had told them of their eyes:

“Activate your sharingan.”

The boy hesitated again but then Tobirama felt him feed chakra to his eyes and Amaterasu spoke:

_When the time was young and days new, there lived people who loved like a wildfire with locks of night cascading down their backs…_

She weaved a story that sounded more a myth than a tale of the Uchiha origin, Tobirama’s voice a rumbling echo of her bright jewel tones. He moved the water to make human-like figures and mythical beasts as the story progressed, creating even a small version of his water dragon that glided above their heads in the form that the Uchiha first discovered her in, breathing fire into their soul to spread over the lands.

As the tale came to a close, Kagami’s small reserves were almost spent and his control over his eyes was lost. He slumped against Tobirama, nearing sleep. Smiling softly, Amaterasu leaned down to kiss Kagami’s forehead, her entire being practically glowing with love. The sleepy boy mumbled something, lifting one of his arms and rubbing the spot, before hugging Tobirama’s arm closer and falling deeper into the comfort of warm oblivion.

Tobirama and Amaterasu both froze and looked at each other, questions running through their minds a mile a second.

Between them, Kagami slumbered.

***

“All right,” Madara said brusquely as he leaned forward on his chair. He had just finished with giving the highlights of the compilation of their findings, with Tobirama’s occasional input, to the war council—smaller now that the council of elders had been disbanded. It had led to some very grim and narrowed looks. Both Tobirama and Touka were present, as were Kikyo, both of Madara’s uncles and the woman Tobirama had come to know as Kotori and as Hikaku’s mother. “You are up-to-date with the situation now. We need to start planning for our defences. In less than three weeks we are going to have war at our doorstep. Kotori, how do our forces fare?”

“They are as well as the situation allows,” she replied. The little Tobirama had heard of her speak had given him an inkling of her levelheadedness… a somewhat rarity amongst the explosive Uchiha nature. “We keep them in an eight-hour rotation that gives them time to rest well. They have an idea of what may be coming and Ritsu-kun and Ichiro-san are doing their best with the twelve-hour shifts.”

They had to be the sensors Madara had mentioned during his recount; not nearly as powerful as Madara or Tobirama, but with a range wide enough that they would have at least a few minutes’ warning of danger now that they knew what to look for. Apparently they hadn’t been utilised prior to Zetsu’s mistake due to the danger they may have put themselves in. Tobirama was reluctantly impressed with Madara’s dedication in fishing Zetsu out even if his lack of keeping Tobirama informed still boiled his blood.

Not that he should complain, as Amaterasu had put it. He bit his cheek so he wouldn’t throw a look over at the floating child-like image she presented herself as.

“Good. Do you have anything to add, uncle?” Madara asked, turning to Kentaro who shook his head. Despite his clear opinion on the Senju attending the meeting—the younger uncle kept glaring at both Tobirama and Touka—he had not said a word to voice it. Tobirama did not know if it was Kentaro’s own sense or the fact that he was seated between Kensuke and Kotori but as long as he did not disrupt the talks Tobirama did not care.

“You understand how dire the situation is then. I am appointing you to our forces. You were a terror before your injury. I want to see you put the fear in our enemy again. Touka-san will help you; she may have insight and strategies we Uchiha lack.”

Kentaro nodded sharply once, eyes still narrowed, while Touka voiced a soft yet steely agreement after getting a discreet nod from Tobirama. Madara then turned to Kikyo and Kensuke. “You two will focus on our defences. While doubtful, there is the possibility that we will be under siege. Make note of our reserves and possible weaknesses that could be exploited. Expect them to know every single one of them.”

“Understood,” the two chorused.

“Go. I want a report at this time tomorrow so we can start planning accordingly.” He turned to Kotori and Tobirama. “You two, stay. I have a special task for you.”

As the rest mingled out and the door shut behind them, Madara pulled out a paper with… names of all the clans inside the Land of Fire in it and a few from neighbouring countries in. There were two main columns and a lot of the names were crossed. “This is a list of possible allies. We are out of luck right now and need to send a word out, quite desperately.” He pushed it towards them. “Tell me what you think of it.”

Tobirama leaned to look over the hastily scribbled notes, some names more legible than others due to the crossing. At least the handwriting wasn’t as bad as Hashirama’s.

“Hyuuga?” Kotori said, pulling a face unenthusiastically. Madara matched her.

“Unfortunately.”

“They are Tsukuyomi’s most ardent followers,” Tobirama murmured. In fact, as Amaterasu kept pointing the names out, there were a few smaller ones there who could be counted as his followers. There were a few of Amaterasu’s too, but—

_Kaguya may have got to them_, Amaterasu pointed out quietly. _I hear less of their prayers every day._

“Do you think she may be trying to deprive you of existence?” he asked, tilting his head her way. She shrugged.

_We tried the same with her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she decided it was our just desserts._

“Does Amaterasu have anything to add?” Madara asked, glancing at him and the air next to him.

“Just that if we intend to contact these clans here, here and here,” Tobirama said, pointing out the clans Amaterasu had indicated. “We should expect similar results as within yours.”

Kotori huffed dryly, “Lovely.”

“But I agree about the Hyuuga. They deserve to know.” Tobirama’s eyes lingered on the Nara, Yamanaka and Akimichi trio and Madara quickly explained why he had crossed their names. Tobirama nodded, agreeing with his point. “The Aburame… I can see where you are coming from. But you should uncross the Hatake. They would answer the Senju should they call for them.”

“Really?” Madara lifted his eyes from the list. “I thought they were nomadic and rather family-oriented.”

“They are. However, our grandmother was a Hatake.”

Madara blinked and then narrowed his eyes on him, taking in his features. “I guess I can see that sharpness there.”

“It was clearer in my father’s facial structure,” Tobirama agreed. “He also shared their stubbornness.” And skipped some of their more redeemable qualities.

Madara nodded and added the name back to the list, completely blacking out the crossed one. “What about the…” They went over with the rest of the list, Tobirama and Kotori both chiming in with their opinions. Most names that had been crossed were completely blacked out by the end of it, a couple had been added, but mostly there hadn’t been too many changes to the original.

“It is all well and good to consider our allies,” Tobirama said as they all examined the now finished list. “But if we cannot get our requests of aid to them, it is rather pointless.”

“Which is the main reason why I asked the both of you to stay,” Madara said. He frowned as whatever he was thinking darkened his mood and bluntly stated, “During these two weeks I haven’t been able to figure out how to safely send a message past our enemy. I wanted to know if either of you had any ideas.”

Tobirama thought it over. He had a couple of ideas, but neither were all that practical, and he said as much; rather he was afraid they would play into the enemy’s hands if executed poorly.

“You know I stopped practicing my craft after Izuna expressed interest in the network and took over me,” Kotori said. Madara snorted.

“The day you stop keeping up with your contacts is the day I retire,” he declared. Kotori levelled him with an unimpressed look, but it did not phase Madara. “You’ve got messages across worse conditions.”

“Conditions that I could predict,” she argued back. She tugged a hairpin free and Tobirama noted how sharp it was. “I already told you, none of my birds have got through. I would need willing Uchiha to run for me and, even if I smuggle them out, I cannot guarantee their safety.”

Madara seemed to have expected the answer by the look of his face. He shifted in his seat and then met Tobirama’s gaze. “Well?”

Instead of answering him, he turned to Kotori. “You said smuggling them out. Can you truly get them out of the compound without anyone knowing?”

Kotori merely stared at him. “You are far too young to question my skills, Senju-sama.”

“I did not,” Tobirama backtracked, realising how his words could be taken. “I was only asking for confirmation so I would know if what I was suggesting is viable.”

“In that case, yes. I can.”

“Good.” Tobirama tapped the arm of his seat and nodded. “Good. Then I may have a jutsu that can give us messengers without us losing a single man.”

“You what?” Madara immediately leaned forward, half-raised from his seat. “How?!”

“It is a huge strain on the performer and not to be used lightly,” he warned them before adding, “I have created a solid clone.”

He watched as Madara’s brows flew high enough that they disappeared into his uncombed mess of hair. Kotori, on the other hand, whistled low. “Handy.”

“Not exactly.” And then Tobirama proceeded to explained just how much chakra only one clone needed to be made—a lot—and how trying to mass produce them would drive anyone to chakra exhaustion—except maybe an Uzumaki—if they weren’t careful. “I can summon two before my chakra levels would dip below half and maintaining one, while not dangerous, will keep leeching on your system enough that it can leave you unable to recover normally. I haven’t had time to work out the kinks yet, so to speak, but…”

“But it would give us a chance of getting a word out without endangering our people.” Kotori leaned back in her chair, playing with the needle-sharp pin. “How durable are they?”

“One hit can destroy them. However, whoever cast the clone receives their memory, so we would instantly know if they managed to get their job done.”

“Does the jutsu copy everything?” Kotori drilled. “Personal items, weapons…”

Tobirama replied, unphased, “It copies the person exactly as they are at that moment. The belongings disappear the moment the clone does too.”

“Then the enemy would not receive our intel if we inform the runners to dispel if caught. Sounds good enough to me. Madara-sama?” They looked at the wide-eyed look on Madara’s face and Kotori seemed to take his silence as permission. “Brilliant. I trust you two will write a letter to send out and copy that so that all the volunteers I find will have one when I send them off. Excuse me, I need to discuss this with Kentaro to see who would be best suited for the job.” She bowed as she left her seat. “Madara-sama, Senju-sama.”

And then she was out, pin back in her bun, leaving Tobirama and Madara to sit in the office alone.

“You had that in your sleeve as well?” Madara said, disbelief painting his tone. He shook his head. “Every time I think I know you…”

“The jutsu is incomplete,” Tobirama said. He wasn’t all too happy to share something that was not done to perfection. However, beggars cannot be choosers. “But if Zetsu finds out we figured out a way around him and the Uchiha forces are depleted because of this…”

“We only need to get a few past him.” Madara drummed his fingers on his desk before he nodded in his thoughts. “I doubt he knows of your jutsu either. It’s our best option. Kotori and Kentaro will figure out who to send without damaging our ability to respond to the attacks.” Then Tobirama was pinned by the dark eyes. “Tobirama, thank you.”

Mortified, Tobirama felt heat gather to his cheeks. “You are welcome.”

Madara made a noise Tobirama did not understand. There was an element of haste when Madara coughed and continued with a, “You said you had two ideas?”

“I—” Tobirama cleared his throat and threw away the last of his caution. He had already committed to helping Madara in every way he could. He should make sure all his actions reflected that as well and, after this, there were no more secrets that did not include personal or clan matters between them. “Yes. I never told you, but I have some seeds Hashirama imbued with his chakra on me. They are a last resort, a sort of a fail safe in case something unexpected happens and I cannot defend myself.”

Slightly embarrassed, he shifted his position to look out the window instead of staring straight at Madara. “I could spread them around the defences and they would create an additional layer of protection. However, it would instantly reveal Zetsu that we are readying ourselves against him and are not merely being cautious with the recent events and it would also alert my brother which would create another bundle of problems if he decided to, well…”

“Ah,” came Madara’s intelligently reply. Then, as if to mock his own response, he cleverly deducted, “Which is why you always carry at least one of your Senju garments with you.”

Tobirama inclined his head in agreement. “They are sown into my clothing.”

“Can they be activated from long distance?”

“As I do not possess mokuton myself, no. I would need to be in contact with them.”

“I see the problem.” Madara fell silent for a moment before he shook his head, his wild mane moving with the effort. “Keep them on your person. You have that teleportation trick still, don’t you? I remember seeing decorations, seals if I am not mistaken, on your kunai the last time you used it. Couldn’t you create similar points of focus around the walls, so in case of emergency you could strengthen them at a moment’s notice?”

That—

“You would allow me to do so?” Tobirama asked, taken aback. He wanted to smack the man, yell at his being too trusting, allowing Tobirama to basically do whatever he wanted to their defences; one seal at a wrong place could bring them _all_ down.

The stupid, trustful _fool_.

But how much of a fool did it make Tobirama that, while having thought so, he would never actually do it? That the trust Madara placed on him was not something he wished to break; it was heavy but also even pleasant, almost warm with—

His cheeks heated even more. Suddenly his earlier realisation came back to haunt him, the acknowledgement that Madara _cared_. That Tobirama himself might—

He had to get away. He had to—

“Kagami,” he blurted out and stood up quickly. “I need to—yes, I have to see if he is all right. He exhausted himself earlier today. But I will take your suggestion under consideration.”

“Right!” Madara said. He had stood up as well but there was a confused lilt to his tone, the fleeting pink leaving his face with a healthy, fetching glow—

Tobirama bowed quickly in his haste, abruptly falling back to the manners he had mostly forgone the past weeks when alone with Madara and then was on his way to the safety of his room he could feel Kagami slumber peacefully.

Absently he touched his cheek where the damning heat radiated.

What? _How_? He couldn’t—there was no way—

He slid the door close behind him and buried his head in hands in an attempt to hide, ignoring the affronted nattering Amaterasu showered him with for having closed the door in front of her face.

_No_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Progress._


	19. Madara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi :) I just moved back to my hometown (well, "town" is a rather relative term considering it's the capital) and oof. Been busy. Starting work at a new school next week. But! I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Eight Uchiha stood at attention when Madara walked over to them briskly. The nip of the cold had bitten their skins red but the steam from their breath of fire kept them warm. They would have to forgo it soon, however; they only had limited chakra and it would be far too noticeable after sneaking past the walls.

Tobirama followed him more sedately if no less quickly, his longer legs keeping pace with Madara, deep in conversation with Amaterasu. Madara had heard them discussing mixing blood with the clone jutsu and he really didn’t have the time and energy to process that. He could be as curious as he wanted after the threat was over and done with… though he honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

He scrutinised the men and women in front of him. He could immediately recognise all of them despite their dark, uchiwa-less armour and see why his uncle and Kotori had chosen them. All of them were loyal, battle-hardened people with some of the largest chakra reserves of their clan. He particularly eyed three and knew that two of them would be running for the Hyuuga, being that they were the furthest away from their current location on their list. The third would be running for the Senju through a detour, hopefully managing to fool Zetsu and his men. The rest would scatter and aim for the few other selected clans on their list, hopefully making it to at least some of them.

Madara gave each of them a scroll with the carefully crafted message he and Tobirama had agonised over last night. “You all know your mission,” he said. “Do you have any concerns?”

Predictably none voiced any. He had known Kotori would be thorough. Madara nodded.

“Good. The moment you are compromised, dispel. We have no need for heroic actions nor signature jutsu; the enemy need not know we are mobilising. Tobirama will show you the sequence now. Activate your sharingan.”

As ordered, the red glow with swirling black came to life. Tobirama stepped forward and lifted his hands for clear presentation. His own clone puffed into existence as did eight more opposite him. Madara activated his own sharingan, examining the sight. He could not see which of them were real and which clones. He knew that was the idea, had even seen it demonstrated yesterday, but he still couldn’t help but be impressed that a jutsu was able to imitate even the complicated chakra networks. To make a jutsu like that from scratch was a feat like no other.

He turned to Kotori, noting how she and Kentaro had their eyes copying the sequence as well. He smiled and held a scroll to her too. “I know you did not volunteer and that Ren also is on the job but I would like two to attempt the Senju route.”

It was not an order, but Kotori nodded, took the scroll, and a few hand signs later another clone popped into existence. The clone bowed to Madara before straightening and then slid past him, walking towards where the well was and the rest of the clones followed her, leaving the originals behind. Madara turned to Kentaro.

“Take good care of them. Send a messenger to me the moment something changes.”

“Yes, Madara-sama,” his uncle said and bowed. Kentaro then motioned for the shinobi including Kotori to follow him and they started making their way to the sickbay where Touka had been preparing them a room with medics on stand-by. They would monitor his people for any signs of chakra exhaustion.

Tobirama sent his own clone off to make the seal markings for his teleportation trick as they had discussed. He had been quiet that morning, looking at Madara when he thought he wasn’t paying attention. It would have worked, Madara thought, if he wasn’t looking back. He couldn’t help but wonder what was on Tobirama’s mind. He very much doubted it was the same as what kept Madara’s attention on him. His abrupt leave yesterday was one thing and Madara had been ready to go shake him for answers if he started avoiding him—they did not need it on top of everything else—but come morning everything was the same. Except for the glances. Which were getting just a tad weird.

Madara knew Tobirama well enough by now that if he demanded an explanation it would only make him angry or retreat further into whatever funk he was in, so he had resolved not to say anything if it did not affect his work. And it hadn’t. He would come to him if he wanted to. It wasn’t like this concerned Madara. Probably. Maybe.

The little annoying voice in his head that sounded like Izuna kept bugging him about ‘what if it was’ and ‘you know it does’, but Madara refused to listen to it. Even if it did, Tobirama had the right to his own thoughts. He trusted he would tell him if it became necessary for Madara to know. Besides, it wasn’t like they needed any more distractions. Things were tense enough as they were.

Even if he could admit to being curious.

He clapped his hands once and the people around them immediately dispersed to fulfil their tasks. “And then we wait,” he said. He spread his senses but could not sense the clones anymore. Honestly, seeing them apply the same skills as his people—in a sense, they _were_ his people—was amazing.

“And then we wait,” Tobirama agreed. His hands were clasped behind his back as they left to take a look at how the preparations were going. Madara trusted his people but he wanted to personally see to their defences as well.

“Was Uncle Kentaro of any problem?”

“Touka said he was being cordial enough.”

“Good.”

“Did he lose someone to the Senju too?”

Madara shrugged. “Not any more than others.”

“Fair enough.” And then Tobirama left it at that. He was good at that, accepting things and moving on. It was a trait Madara appreciated. He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face and when he turned to look at Tobirama he found the man avoiding his eyes, the tips of his ears red.

“Do you think they’ll make it?” Madara asked. He avoided colliding on a woman with a big laundry basket, exchanging nods with her as she passed. His shoulders brushed against Tobirama’s.

“If… If there are no clones destroyed within two hours, I would say we have a fair chance of getting at least a couple through.” Tobirama moved a little to the side before he was back, evading the two kids who ran past them. Madara was suddenly very aware of how close they walked, their hands brushing against each other. He folded his arms to avoid the contact, only to regret it a moment later when their upper arms were pressed together.

“I—suppose you are right.”

They walked in silence the rest of the way and Madara could feel his skin heat up on the back of his neck. When they made it around the corner, finding less people there, he couldn’t find a reason to move away without drawing attention to it. Only when they made it to their first destination did he step forward, breaking the contact. He felt the loss of heat immediately and he had to keep himself rooted on his clansman’s words not to do anything he would regret later.

They made their trip around the compound, finding nothing amiss. They found Kikyo entertaining Kagami as they had asked her to while she was doing her duties and promised the boy could come back to the house the moment they were returning themselves. They did not want him alone. As they left them, they encountered Uncle Kensuke who gave them a brief of the current defence system; the preparations were going well enough but there was a lot to cover, especially when no one knew exactly how much Yuji and the twins had revealed of them. Madara bit his cheek until he could taste blood as he listened to the recount just so he wouldn’t cause another scene. Tobirama’s presence by his side—the quiet, cold heat of his own anger—was strangely soothing.

They were just thinking of stopping by Satsuki’s for lunch, when Touka jumped down from the nearby roof. Madara checked the sun before he led them to a quieter side street. They were lucky if an hour and a half had passed.

“Which one?” he barked. Touka scowled in response.

“The one going to the Aburame.”

Hotaru, Madara’s memory quickly supplied. Silent as the night, the lowest of the reserves from the chosen shinobi. “The cause?”

“She claimed an Aburame patrol had considered her a threat.”

Madara paused at that. “Claimed?” he asked, frown already deepening on his face.

“She immediately passed out after and we couldn’t verify her story.”

“And do you have a reason to believe she isn’t telling the truth?” Tobirama asked pointedly. His head was tilted as if he was listening to two conversations at once.

“The Aburame live closer to three hours from here.”

“Which part of the route was she on?”

Touka said she didn’t know but Madara considered the paths Kotori and Kentaro had planned, made a few mental calculations and answered, “Possibly near the rocks in the east. The ones that can be seen from the waterfall.”

Tobirama nodded and glanced back to the empty spot next to him. “Can you see anything?” They waited for an answer in silence and then, minutes later, Tobirama inclined his head. “There were people there, looking around, but she didn’t recognise them. They kept to the shadows.”

Which could mean a lot or nothing at all; the Aburame did not worship Amaterasu but their attires were rather distinctive. Madara rubbed his neck and then stretched it in thought.

“Can she spy on people for us?” Touka asked, squinting. “That would have been useful to know weeks ago.”

Tobirama only shook his head. “She can see where the sunrays can reach,” he replied, which Madara already knew, but then continued with, “But she cannot be in two places at once and it takes time when she cannot pinpoint what to look for or if no one is invoking her. The only reason she could return to us so quickly is her connection to me, to a lesser sense to the Uchiha. It is still rather weak even if growing stronger by the day.”

Despite knowing the depths of it, hearing the number Kaguya had done to his clan still smarted. “A pity,” he said instead. “Let’s bring lunch with us and go to see how they fare.”

When they reached the designated room, Eri gave them a look but let them through the door after they promised none of the food or dishes would be left for her to clean after. Kentaro nodded at them from his spot by the door. When Madara turned forward, he made a face. The chosen couriers looked wane. They had a pale pallor, almost sickly, though those with bigger reserves did not look as bad off. They greeted Madara as he entered before going back to looking at the cards they had in front of them. The go board was forgotten in the corner and Madara suspected it was too difficult to focus on with the constant drain on their chakra.

Halfway through their meal Tobirama winced, swaying for a moment, before allaying Touka’s concern with, “My clone just returned,” which led to Eri asking questions about the drain and technique itself that Madara did not recall asking himself. He was suddenly glad they had Eri there to take care of their people. The woman was whip-smart and clever in ways Madara himself was not.

When the two-hour margin had passed, two more shinobi had been rendered unconscious. Madara scowled as Ren was one of them. He hoped Kotori would fare better; they _needed_ to get the message to the Senju. Two hours after that more and more had failed to deliver their message and the first ones had roused to a migraine of a lifetime and to inform them that they had dispelled when what had likely been Zetsu’s forces had caught up to them. Only Hotaru insisted that she had been taken out by the Aburame.

Their first triumph was six hours after the cloned shinobi had left when Rokuro fell to the ground, croaking, “Message delivered,” before falling into exhausted asleep. Madara immediately jumped to his feet, energy buzzing through him, even as Eri and her assistant ran to tend to Rokuro, their chakra ready to support his emptied reserves.

The Hyuuga had heard. It was… a somewhat strange feeling to be glad to have made a connection with the Hyuuga of all people, but he was. While it was unlikely for Rokuro to have made it to the clan’s compound considering the timing, he must have gotten past Zetsu’s men unnoticed and then ran until he found a patrol willing to listen. Taking into a count how exhausted he was, he had done very well.

Now they just had to hope that it was enough.

His mood immediately dimmed some as his eyes sought Kotori. She was laying on the ground, sweating and breathing hard. She was still conscious and her clone was still alive, but it wasn’t a six-hour journey to the Senju, not with her speed and insight.

Madara started pacing. He was beyond worried. Had Zetsu’s men caught her? Somehow managed to figure out the clone’s weak spot and were keeping it alive just to kill her off? Was it even possible? Tobirama had explained that the clone should be able to dispel itself even without a wound, but it was a new technique. What if—?

They had to wait until the others still remaining had popped, one of whom had managed to deliver their message to one of their smaller allies—in hope they could spread the word in their place—that Kotori’s eyes flashed open and she let out an audible gasp. Madara was by her side immediately as she fumbled around with her hands, snatching onto his the moment they entered her reach. The lines on her face had deepened with the exhaustion and her grip on him quivered.

“The—the Senju,” she stuttered and the groaned, her voice deepening. Madara attempted to feed her chakra the way he had seen Eri do, but his attempt was clumsy and awkward, barely letting any slip to strengthen hers. “They are—are completely surrounded. The forest is alive. Surrounded. Couldn’t—get in. Tried—tried everything.”

_Izuna_.

“Did they find you?” Madara asked, his voice sounding foreign in his own ears with the adrenaline surging.

“No,” she denied, eyes glazing. “They—too busy with the forest. Popped myself. Couldn’t—”

“Shh,” he said. Eri kneeled on Kotori’s other side with a wet rag and started washing her sweating brow. “Just rest. Thank you.”

“Not—wo—” Whatever she had been about to say was cut off as the exhaustion caught up to her. Only two people had stayed conscious—and mostly lucid—after the endeavour though their chakras had been thoroughly depleted as well. Almost detached Madara thought he now understood why Tobirama had not been comfortable with the jutsu but suggesting it anyway due to the desperate situation.

“It takes skill to be able to preserve enough chakra for the technique for that long,” Tobirama said as if sensing Madara’s thoughts. There was a tinge of admiration in his carefully maintained tone. “She is strong.”

“Just as stubborn as any of us even if she hides it better.” Madara twisted around as he stood up. “Did you hear?”

“Something has happened for brother to activate the defences.” While his voice had no colour, Tobirama’s eyes belied his calm. Madara nodded and gestured at him to follow. Tobirama asked Touka to stay help Eri—she was better versed in recognising the side effects from Tobirama’s jutsu—while Madara ordered Kentaro to inform Kikyo and Kensuke of the results.

They made it quick to Madara’s house. Madara couldn’t sense Kagami around; he must still be out, no doubt returning the moment he saw Kentaro coming to see Kikyo.

“Tell me,” he said, the moment the door closed behind them and no ears would hear his next words. “You know both our wards and your own. Which compound is more secure?”

Tobirama looked slightly taken aback with his request but as there was no immediate answer Madara knew he was taking his question seriously. He marched to the kitchen and put water to boil, partly so they would have something calming to drink and partly to force himself not to pace.

When cups were placed on the table and both of them were sitting, facing each other and letting the tea steep, Tobirama spoke. “You have better territory for a battle to be fought,” he said. “It is ideal for a siege in that you have deep wells and nothing in your immediate area to burn. Your traps are well-placed and they will make it difficult to come at you unless the enemy is willing to kill their first wave in favour of the second.”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Madara said dryly. Tobirama inclined his head in agreement.

“Your walls are strong and with the addition of the mokuton even stronger. The Senju’s strength is different; our terrain is made impossible to fight straightforwardly. The few that have tried have always been unable to make more than a few chips at our walls as they cannot come with their largest jutsu at hand. However due to the proximity of the forest a siege is not something ideal. Should you burn the surrounding area… well. There is a reason we always met your clan half-way.”

Madara poured them tea. Tobirama blew the steam, illustrating his point. “This is, of course, a little different nowadays. I am a proficient suiton user and my brother’s mokuton makes the territory his. He has planted trees and seeds in the surrounding area and it is just as trapped as yours is. Overall I would say both compounds have good and bad sides to them.”

“And which of them would hold better with our combined forces?”

The widening of Tobirama’s eyes was the only thing that gave away his surprise. “A forest is not ideal for katon users,” he then replied slowly, savouring his words and the bitterness of the tea. “But should you control your fires, bend them to our advantage, I would say the Senju compound. We may not have as deep wells as you do but our storages are larger. The forest, should it stay unharmed or be regrown, can shelter from the winter better than an open area.”

Kagami pinged in Madara’s senses, excitement and worry mixing in a bouncy little ball of fire, yelling that he was coming closer without words.

“Is there space?”

“It would be tight.”

“Is there?”

“…Yes.”

Madara downed his tea and slammed the cup back on the table. “Then that’s what we will do. Our defences are compromised here and I do not care to find out just how much. Since we can’t even get a word to your clan, there is no way Zetsu can get in either. Kotori said they were too busy battling the forest… perhaps that’s why they have been so quiet around here.”

Were they preparing for something? Would bringing the Senju down be something of worth to them? “But the forest knows you; _Hashirama_ knows you.” Madara met Tobirama’s eyes across the table. “We can make a break for it and join the fight.”

Tobirama stared back. “What about the messages we did get through?” The question was a challenge, but there was no clear refusal. Madara felt his soul light on fire with the tentative encouragement.

“We are not forgetting them. We mentioned the Senju and you.” But that was not enough, was it? Madara’s thoughts ran in circles while Tobirama waited patiently. “We will leave a sign. The seeds will be activated; we lock the Uchiha compound, make it a worthless effort on their part, and draw them back with us. When there’s no enemy in sight and a clear sign of protection, others will know what happened.”

“Will they?” Tobirama set his own cup down with more grace. “Or will they leave, think of trickery? There are too many variables and we will not be getting another set of messengers out. No one likes a high-stake guessing game.”

“Do we have a choice?” Madara leaned forward. His hair fell with him and he pushed it back over his shoulder. “We have an ally in the Senju but no contact. The enemy is biding its time, fighting on two fronts, yes, but they have all the cards.”

“So how will we get all the sickly and able, the young and old, there without anyone hurt? Your people will not take leaving your ancestral land or possessions kindly nor bringing them to a clan that was their enemy not so long ago.”

As if Madara didn’t know that. “The lives of my people matter more than any sentiment. Zetsu thinks we are sitting ducks. He is right. But surprise will be in our favour; they will be unable to mobilise their forces if we move quickly. We will send decoys, clones, in one direction and draw their attention… Perhaps even another wave. Just a select few, just long enough to get a good head start. When the front is divided, we will take my people and run.”

“That is a reckless gamble.”

Madara knew that too. It was playing with his people’s lives, but they needed an out. He needed his people somewhere safer than where the enemy knew their weaknesses. Kaguya had created a foothold for herself in the Uchiha compound; Madara was afraid that no matter how much they prepared it would not be enough. One single overlooked spot could spell a disaster for them all. He couldn’t swear the Senju stronghold would be any better but at least Kaguya and her lackies didn’t hold sway within. Hashirama wouldn’t turn them away. Everything else could be rectified.

“Do you not want to support your brother?”

Tobirama’s scowl was severe and he bit out, “Don’t you _dare_.”

Madara dared. “What we need is to join our forces. Even with the tentative alliance in place, it is still an alliance. We share a common foe. Even if we cannot get everyone on board with anything permanent, we can all agree that this needs to be resolved first. With this we will have the advantage of controlling the fight from our own end. We do not have to merely respond; we can _act_.” Madara leaned back in his seat, rearranging himself as Kagami reached the door. “Hidden in the leaves, we will be united.”

“Hidden in the leaves…” Tobirama murmured and then the door slammed open and shut, Kagami rushing to them in his hurry. The anxiety on his face melted away as he saw a cup of cooled tea—still drinkable—set on his usual spot next to Tobirama who had schooled his expression into something less scary. Kagami sat down and began chattering, bombarding them with questions about things that a child his age should not know—Madara would know—and demands for snacks.

Madara answered some of his inquiries, Tobirama evaded some more, and Kagami stopped talking in favour of inhaling the offered treats. It was, all in all, a good arrangement.

He, however, was aware that Tobirama had not given him a definite answer. He knew his people would not like it, especially the old ones and the ones who had lost people in the war. He had no doubt it was the same for the Senju. There wouldn’t be a warm welcome as everything was going far too fast, but they could not win this war alone and divided.

The Senju had been their perfect foil all these years. They once could have been their doom but now they could also become their salvation… and vice versa.

Finally, amongst Kagami’s resuming chatter after the plate was clean, Tobirama flicked his eyes to Madara, tapped his own shoulder twice, and nodded once decisively even as he began ushering Kagami towards the bath. The boy reeked.

Madara grinned wildly behind their backs and went to ask one of the guards to fetch him his war council, even Kotori if she was at all conscious yet. They needed to act quickly before the situation changed yet again. Hashirama better be able to hold his own for a while longer. Madara would have them on the move within days, preferably the day after tomorrow.

Wait for me, Izuna, Madara thought and sent the plea to the skies.

Wait for me just a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... how badly do you think this will end?


	20. Tobirama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New job, new worries! The acclimation took some time but fingers crossed the worst is now over...! I hope you enjoy this chapter too :)

The measly sealing scrolls the Uchiha clan had had been filled and others repurposed, but the number of items that couldn’t be carried with them was staggering. Each precious item that had to be left behind had been hidden as well as they could be, some even placed under heavy illusions and blood-locked seals that Tobirama hadn’t realised the clan had known about. He had to wonder who they had killed—literally—to get that knowledge. Since Madara’s more reasonable uncle had come to him to ask if there were any errors in the work that he could see, he had hope it was no one Hashirama’s fiancée was fond of.

There had been some loud arguing after Madara made the announcement of them leaving the first thing tomorrow to the Senju compound but, to Tobirama’s mild surprise, the backlash had been minimal. Most had just solemnly accepted their fate, especially after Madara had presented his reasoning—his yelling had been rather impressive which made Tobirama glad Kikyo had had the forethought to dampen the noise level beforehand—and promised this wouldn’t be permanent. Even those most vocal about their dissent were shushed by the rest of their friends and family in the end.

It wasn’t the end of it though. The rationale of the grumbled acceptance Touka had overheard and later shared with him was that they would only follow Madara’s orders so that when the Senju inevitably betrayed them they would be there to pick up the pieces and answer in kind. That, in turn, had not been much of a surprise. Rather, Tobirama had thought those of the similar mindset would have voiced themselves even louder despite the imminent threat outside their walls; they were, after all, being forced from their ancestral home into the den of their former enemy. He still asked if Touka had a list of names to keep their eyes on.

She did, thanks to the little following of Uchiha women she had trained with. Tobirama memorised it and filed it away with the list he had concocted of those within the Senju who might pose a risk to the clans’ cooperation. He would have no tolerance for infighting if—_when_, he reminded himself—they reached the other compound.

However, what had truly taken him more aback was that while he had been checking on the seal markings his clone had placed—just to ensure no one had damaged them if they had seen him working on them, one could never be sure—was that several Uchiha had come to him to ask if this truly was the will of their goddess, as if his word weighted more heavily than their clan head’s. He had assured that, yes, Amaterasu had agreed to leave her shrine to go with them, speaking of how her believers were more important to her than any temple. She had tried to add more to it, to make it more flowery and comforting, but Tobirama refused to choke on the words.

_You are the one your brother sends to negotiate trade yet you find words difficult to express when trying to be comforting, _Amaterasu teased him. He scoffed.

“Those at the table know what they signed up for.”

Negotiations were easy; people always had an underlying motive and one only needed to find it to manipulate the situation to their advantage. Emotions, the uncontrollable messed they were, made everything far too difficult handle.

He couldn’t help the glance he sent sideways where Madara was making some last-minute preparations with his uncles. The circles around his eyes were even more pronounced now but it did not distract Tobirama from the way he moved with purpose. He forced himself to look away to where Kikyo was supporting Kotori. The latter still wasn’t completely recovered and had not been part of the planning due to only regaining consciousness when the night arrived. Kikyo had not taken the announcement well when she first heard of it right before the announcement, having to leave her family’s remains behind, but she had acquiesced in the end. Her scathing support had been a key to the elder generation’s giving in.

The plan was simple: they would have three five-man teams sent out to entice parts of Zetsu’s forces with them. With around half of the enemy forces busy with the Senju, this would require them divide their numbers further. The rest—and the fifteen when they recovered, told to just run and not use any unnecessary chakra—would protect the people and attempt to cull those that tried to stop them. After entering the Senju territory, they would strike the enemy’s back with another set of teams and the rest would make their way to the compound itself.

Madara, as the strongest of the clan, would remain to protect the weakest, while Touka would provide a focal point for Tobirama within the strikers as the one more familiar with their territory. Tobirama himself would alternate between them with hiraishin. Since he had markings all over the Senju land this would not take too much out of him, allowing them to exchange information between the two forces. It also gave him a chance to help the Uchiha navigate the forest as it would no longer be what they were used to navigating when attempting to spy on the Senju.

Tobirama was not entirely sure how much the forest has changed since the last time he set a foot in it, but he knew Hashirama and it would not set him back for long. He wasn’t certain this was the best course of action either; Madara was rather paranoid about the defences, he thought, as Hashirama’s seeds would have covered plenty of the weakest spots. If Tobirama hadn’t known about the attack on the Senju, he probably wouldn’t have entertained Madara’s impulsive decision for longer than it took to dissuade him from making it an order. Instead, he would have given life to the defences the moment Zetsu attacked, knowing Hashirama would have gathered enough people to attack the rear on his rampage towards Tobirama’s last-known location. It was, after all, the smart plan and the plan that had the highest chance to be successful.

This was not.

However, Tobirama _did_ know about the attack and his worry had grown each passing hour. His clan was strong and his brother even stronger, but they didn’t know what Tobirama did. Zetsu was relentless and his mistress even more so. There was no way to be certain if they could join forces later… or if there was anything to join forces with.

Anija was _not_ weak, he scolded himself. But the fact was that Zetsu might find a way to delay either of the clans just enough to tip the scales. Madara was right on that front. So, not unlike with his brother, Tobirama would just attempt to mitigate the damage. Hashirama and Madara were alike in many ways, such as seeing the bigger picture while the details got lost in the grand scheme of things. Tobirama, however, turned his eyes on the inside. Considering what he had heard and experienced of Izuna, they had to be alike in a similar manner. The realisation was odd and Tobirama found himself weirdly looking forward to learning more about his battlefield nemesis.

But they had hatched the plan that had the highest chance of working out for them. Zetsu’s forces were divided and they would soon be even more so. The Uchiha warriors had been resting as much as possible and the number of guards had been momentarily lowered to ensure that; not even their enemy could begin a siege while fighting on another front.

Tobirama inhaled and then blew the air out in a slow, controlled manner. Kagami looked at him, fidgeting from where he was attached to his sleeve. He let a smile past his guard and ruffled the child’s hair lightly.

“You will like it in the Senju compound,” he said then. “We have more gardens to enjoy over there.” Kagami didn’t look reassured and the child lowered his head, teeth biting into his lip. Tobirama frowned. “What is it?”

“’s nothin’,” Kagami mumbled, but his grip on Tobirama’s sleeve tightened, wrinkling the cloth under the armour.

“Kagami.”

The boy just shook his head. Tobirama waited patiently. It didn’t take long before the boy blurted, “Can I stay with you?”

“Is there a reason you think you won’t be able to do that?” Tobirama asked. Kagami forwent avoidance in order to squint at him. Tobirama amended, “Do you want to stay with me?”

Kagami hunched his shoulders and nodded. He turtled his way out of his shirt when Tobirama tugged on his curls again. “Then you will stay with me. My brother won’t mind. I have no doubt Izuna and Hikaku are staying with him as well, so I fully expect Madara to be there too and perhaps some others. We will have very limited space with the Uchiha around.”

“It… won’t be a bother?” came the shy question and Tobirama shook his head. He lifted the child—far too skinny for his age—who let out a small squeak at the sudden movement and carried him to where the rest of the children were meandering around their appointed caretakers and guards.

“It won’t. And if someone wants to make it a problem, I will make sure _they_ will make an exception.” He lifted Kagami’s chin so they were facing each other. “This means I want you to be very careful today and follow Madara’s lead. Do you have the kunai I gave you?”

Kagami confirmed it with a pat over it and a shy little grin. Tobirama let a small one of his own escape to his lips too. “Good. Insert a little chakra on it like I showed you if you need help. I will feel it and teleport to wherever you are.”

“Okay.”

Tobirama set him down and pushed him towards the others. “Be safe.”

“You too!” Kagami insisted. The man whose name Tobirama could not remember called for the kid who dashed for a quick hug before loping to stand with the other children. When he reached them he spun around and waved. Tobirama waved back, pushed chakra to the soles of his feet, and with a few quick jumps landed next to Madara.

“Good, you are here,” the man said, not even bothering to twitch at the silent arrival. “We are ready to go.”

Then so was he. He waited for Amaterasu to return from her patrol—they had been blessed with a sliver of sun right over the compound, giving them a slight edge with her working through Tobirama with the Uchiha sensors—and she gave them an all clear.

“At your order.”

Madara nodded, gave Tobirama one last once over, and motioned for the first diversion group to prepare their clones. Tobirama rolled his shoulders. Further away Kotori spiked her chakra twice, indicating that the path was open.

Madara hollered a call for Amaterasu. The Uchiha around them immediately straightened and then the first group of clones was off.

The operation was on.

***

Tobirama slashed at one of the men Zetsu commanded. ‘Bone men’ was an apt term but Tobirama wished he had an actual clan name to call them. He threw a kunai past them and reached, appearing behind the man and sent him sprawling in his blood on the ground. Without turning he made his way to another who was holding one of Touka’s new friends on the ground and the two of them took him down. The brief nod of thanks was all he got when he felt Madara’s chakra on his seal. He glanced around and then caught Touka’s eye, making a signal, and then reaching again.

Five hiraishin marks later he appeared at Madara’s side.

“The situation?” came the terse demand.

“Touka has it under control,” he replied. “A few wounded but none mortally. Three enemies down.”

“Good. The way? Numbers?”

Tobirama’s senses were already spread and he relied the information to him. Madara changed the course slightly and those following him did as well. Many elderly and children were carried by those that could walk with the extra weight, but the road was long for the civilians. With Zetsu’s army in chaos, it was easier for them to slip past them.

“The last group was dispelled seven minutes ago,” Madara informed him and Tobirama was just glad they managed as long as they did. It, however, spelled the end to the little grace they had. “How long until we are nearing your patrols?”

“At your pace, an hour,” he said. “But I can find no one familiar outside the compound; Zetsu is keeping them still. They are not engaged in a fight but none of our enemies have left the siege either.”

“They may not know about us yet then. What about Hashirama? Izuna?”

“I can sense them all inside the compound, your cousin included.”

The relief Madara’s face revealed did not ease the warrior’s stance one bit. “Good, that’s… good.”

“Amaterasu’s keeping an eye on them as the sky’s clear there. If anything changes, she’ll inform me.” Touka pinged on his radar and with her name as his only explanation, he reached for his seals again. Now after seven markings he found her in a sword-lock with a bone man. The man only had time to widen his eyes before Tobirama ran him through.

“Hajime sensed reinforcements coming from our back,” Touka said quickly, helping up the Uchiha she had been protecting. “The—”

“The last group was dispelled.” His announcement was met with curses.

“Of course our luck couldn’t last.” Touka readied her blade. It had been cleaned and sharpened before they left and it now glistened red in the low light. “Teams one and five, in the middle! Teams three and seven, protect them! Team two, to the trees, and the rest, follow Hajime and I!”

No one questioned her orders. Each Uchiha jumped forward to meet her demands; many had seen her bled for them and none would take that for granted. Touka enhanced her speed with chakra, rushing to where the Uchiha sensor and the other leader of the squad had pointed them towards. He had been correct; the bone men were catching up to them.

Tobirama joined the fray when the two forces collided. They were lucky in that they outnumbered the bone-wielders but there was certain madness and reckless abandon in their enemy that their side just… lacked. Desperation cooled their blood as fire coated their tongue. Tobirama blasted a dragon made of water at their enemy, sweeping up two of them to be easy targets to their long-ranged specialists. He lost himself in the battle, slashing and blocking and dodging before going for the throat again and again.

Time was meaningless when more and more arrived after their comrades had been cut down while the numbers of the Uchiha had likewise been reduced. Not as many as they had killed but each wound and each loss was a hit Tobirama had not expected to care about so much. He himself was lucky in that one of the Uchiha had decided to guard his back as his momentary distracting almost tripped him into a blade, his spread senses getting an overload of anxious fear nearby the—Senju compound?

“Retreat!” he yelled, blocking the blow coming to his saviour’s head and saving the man in turn. “Touka, to the compound! _Now_!”

He barely had time to register her loud bellows when the fear flashed at him again and he finally recognised Kagami’s shaky chakra. Tobirama reached—

He arrived to another battlefield just in time to block yet another blade of bone. The children behind him screamed, their fear turning to relief. Rage burned through him and Tobirama rushed forward and spat ice needles at the men. He managed to blind one but the other three dodged, even if that was not enough when in their haste they left their backs unguarded. Their bodies fell down along with one of the caretakers whose wounds had finally caught up to him.

The air burned behind him and he turned back just enough to see a wall of fire pushing against the other side. He recognised Madara’s hair as he burned the world around him, white-haired attackers and trees alike. The chakra Hashirama had tied to the trees was fighting against the heat but without the man there was little it could do to prevent the flames from destroying the forest.

Tobirama sensed people leaving the siege to come aid their enemies. He could still sense his brother, the glow of his powerful chakra, now at the gates inspecting the situation. If he just could get a message, a sign of any kind—

Another wave of bone was sent against him and the others protecting the children and Tobirama had to focus on the matter at hand. Touka was nearing but the strike team was hindered with the force they had encountered earlier and had to have engaged so they would not run to inform others. He had less than half his chakra reserves left and he was starting to feel winded. Hours of vigilance and then almost constant battle had left him feeling tired in a way he hadn’t for weeks. As Tobirama sent more needles out, keeping the enemy at bay, he considered his options. Most of them he discarded as quick as he thought of them. He couldn’t even send a clone as it would be destroyed the moment it left his side. He doubted he had the chakra for that either.

Tobirama had no doubt that they would win; they were already so close and Hashirama would realise what the fires would be when they reached high enough. When that was, however, was of question. With the civilians, the elderly, and the children amongst them, they could not go for an all-out battle unlike the enemy. This was the scenario that Madara and Tobirama had feared.

But they were also already _so close_.

A kunai flew past him just far enough that he could not catch it and he heard it clang against metal. Kagami—brave, little Kagami—had deflected it with the kunai Tobirama had given him. His eyes were such a deep red that it reminded Tobirama of blood.

The blood that was spilt on the field, the sickly pale skin, the black-and-white hair askew with eyes so wide yet seeing nothing anymore, the blood that coated his hands as he—

Tobirama growled and roared a dragon alive so big it crashed like a tsunami against their enemy, sweeping them back several hundred feet and almost at Touka’s lap. She was here. The relief was short lived as a gasp escaped his lips. The jutsu also depleted his reserves far too much, shit, he had let his temper get better at him at the worst possible moment—

The message.

They had to get a message out. Something no one could fabricate. Something that would make Hashirama leave the safety of his walls, to see where Tobirama was so close but yet so far away.

Tobirama trusted Madara, he loved Touka, but he _believed_ in Hashirama.

His brother could face the odds that were stacked against him and come out a winner. It was in his nature; the same way nature was at his beck and call. It had been a plan, a stupid plan, but a plan nonetheless. A stupid plan from a stupid, impulsive idiot that Tobirama had grown too fond of in such a short time.

It was a good thing he hadn’t only been betting on one such stupid idiot.

Tobirama took a deep breath, watched the bone men gather themselves as if he was observing through someone else’s eyes, and yelled, screamed, _called_:

_“Amaterasu!”_

Not unlike the first time they met, the clouds parted momentarily as Amaterasu’s sudden, almost panicked presence ripped a hole in the darkening evening. The fleeting golden rays grew darker, redder, but just as bright. The light shot through him, burning away his pain and soothing his soul, as it gathered him in her warm embrace.

His skin was alight, but nothing hurt.

He could hear voices around him, loud and alarmed, but he stared through the forest of flames and devastation at a man with skin as black as night and eyes an unsettling yellow. Behind him he could see a shadow of a woman with long, white hair and horns where ears should be. Her eyes were paler than snow and her mouth painted red, the clothes on her just as pale as her skin. She was as familiar as she was unknown and, just before Tobirama could feel his strength slip through his fingers, he realised why that was.

The woman was an imitation of everything Amaterasu could have been had she hated just as fiercely as she loved. A copy of an artwork a jealous apprentice had made from their master’s, one that should never have been let out to see the light of day. She snarled, her expression twisting the beautiful features into revealing the ugliness that lived within her.

Tobirama blinked and both she and her minion were gone, replaced by a familiar voice screaming his name.

The last thing Tobirama saw before his consciousness finally left him was the face of his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Senju compound, here we come!


	21. Madara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the reunions! <3

When Madara saw the light slam down from the high heavens he knew something had to give. He spewed out a bout of flames hot enough to melt flesh from bone and after securing that side of the battle spun around to see what the rest of them did. His jaw fell before he could catch it, unable to do anything but stare at the picture being painted in front of him.

Tobirama stood before the children, his whole being swallowed by the pillar of light that vanished from above only to curl tighter around him. Even the burned ground was silver under his feet. The battle didn’t stop to watch and wait, however, and Madara had to redirect his attention to another man attempting to behead him. He crouched and kicked his feet forward, sweeping his attacker’s legs from under him. With a quick stab of his blade he crushed the bone armour enough to reach the heart. His opponent was no more.

“Don’t be distracted!” he bellowed, waking his people from their trance. “Amaterasu be great!”

“Amaterasu be great!” came the answer in varying pitches and with their goddess’ blessing the Uchiha started defending themselves with renewed vigour. Madara stole another quick look over his shoulder but Tobirama was still standing there, head turned to the shadows of the forest.

And then, without any warning, he fell.

The light flickered and died, taking Tobirama with it. He crumbled on the ground, screaming children surrounding him, and as soon as that happened Madara heard a sound that he had truly heard only once before and it chilled him down to the bone.

It was the sound of trees growing in a rush.

He didn’t have time to yell a warning before trunks wider than a grown man burst from the ground, tangling themselves in the middle of the Uchiha and around them, and Madara could hear the panic of his kin. His sharingan pulsed uncomfortably but he ignored it and fed it even more chakra until it felt as if the world had slowed down. He burned the branches curling around his feet and distanced himself enough to see if he had made a mistake in placing his trust in the Senju.

Touka had managed to disengage from the mokuton prison herself and was now running towards where Tobirama was. He found Hashirama there as well, hugging Tobirama’s prone body to him, reminiscent of that day that now seemed so long ago. The Senju soldiers surrounded them but had also started to spread out, taking out the similarly tangled-up white-haired demons that… had started retreating. They were retreating.

Amaterasu, they had made it.

It was then that he found the trees not moving anymore. Many of their enemies were impaled but none of the Uchiha were amongst them; they were only held in the protective hold that none of them surely enjoyed. Still, Madara murmured a quiet thank you and with one last glance sent towards Tobirama—there was no place for him there right now—he left to calm his people down. The children were fine although the looks they gave to the trees were ones of terror and for a good reason. Madara was very familiar with the horror stories his kin liked to tell about the rare bloodline that the Senju rarely demonstrated.

As he started removing their cage, he counted their heads. Kagami wasn’t there. For one moment his heart stopped but one look behind him told him that the child was now being comforted by Touka. He must have not run when the others did, the stubborn little pest. Knowing him, he probably stayed to try to protect Tobirama from his own brother. At least he was unhurt. Focusing on his task again, it took him a bit but together with the few that had managed to escape from the grip of the suddenly sprouted forest they managed to chop the rest of his people out.

His senses, now that they were no longer overflooded with the battle, were able to see that Izuna’s chakra had not left its spot further away and that Hikaku was on the other side of the Hashirama-grown monstrosity. It only took him five quick jumps to reach him.

“Hikaku!” he yelled, startling his cousin who had been tending to some of the wounded with two young Senju standing behind him, and without further ado grabbed him into a tight hug. “You are a sight for sore eyes.”

“Madara, what are you _doing_ here?” Hikaku hissed into his ear. Despite the unwelcoming words, his arms were just as tight around him. “And the clan too—my mother?”

“She is somewhere around here, safe the last time I saw her, but things haven’t been great.”

Hikaku gave him one last squeeze and let him go. When Madara had a chance to actually look at him, he seemed well-fed and there was a healthy glow on his cheeks. “Since you have taken the whole clan here, I would assume so. It seems Izuna was right.”

“He is all right then?”

Hikaku paused just long enough for Madara to start panicking. Seeing that, Hikaku quickly explained, “Madara, he’s fine. There was an attack and he is still on enforced bedrest, but he will recover. Hashirama-sama has been kind.”

Madara refused to let his knees wobble the way they wanted to. “There was an attack?”

“Yes, but he’s _fine_,” Hikaku stressed like whenever he felt Madara was being stubborn. “We’ll fill you in when we get inside.” He gave the two Senju boys a nod. “Hideki-kun, Yuzu-san, thank you for your help. Would you be so kind as to go tell my cousin what happened? We need to retreat inside as quickly as possible.”

The boy Hikaku had named Hideki shifted on his feet as he uncertainly glanced behind them where the Uchiha had started regrouping and caring for their wounded. “The elders won’t be happy.”

“Hashirama-sama will make sure your involvement will not be made an issue.” When the boy still didn’t look convinced, Hikaku said softly, “And I think your brother’s teacher will not allow anything to happen to him either.”

That seemed to mean something to the teenager who quickly bowed and left in a hurry. The other one, Yuzu, didn’t move. Hikaku just sighed. “I won’t be going anywhere. If you are uncomfortable, just take a step back.” The boy just stayed silent and didn’t let up his staring. Madara made the executive decision to ignore his presence.

“Go to the clan,” he said, pushing Hikaku towards their family. “I need a word with Hashirama.”

Hikaku agreed to it easily but didn’t leave until he had given one last warning. “He has been on edge for hours for some reason. More than the battle. Tread carefully.”

No doubt having sensed Tobirama’s chakra grow his seeds. With a quick nod Madara started walking to where Hashirama and Tobirama still were, deciding on slower approach not to startle his old friend. The expression carved on his face was worried but less frantic than it had been earlier but he’d rather be careful. It was not just his well-being depending on the clan head’s goodwill.

Kagami was standing a little to the side, shifting on his feet but stubbornly refusing to budge despite the looks he sent to all the Senju moving around him. Seeing no Touka at Hashirama’s side, Madara swept his gaze across the area and quickened his steps just a little. He found her easily a hundred feet away; close enough to defend should the need arise to but far enough to give them a semblance of privacy. She was joined by four Senju shinobi who looked young enough to be her age. Family? Friends? Acquaintances? …Lovers?

Madara suddenly realised he had taken her for granted and knew almost nothing about her, having focused on Tobirama instead, and she had let him. The realisation almost… hurt.

When he reached hearing distance, he called Hashirama’s name. The man in question straightened slightly but didn’t remove his eyes from his brother. “He’s just unconscious, isn’t he?” Madara asked, stopping a few feet away. He crouched low, bringing Kagami to him and hugging him to his side, and they both watched a tanned hand brush snow-pale cheek almost reverently. This close it was unmistakeable how Tobirama’s chest moved slowly up and down with each of his inhales and exhales.

“He is.” Hashirama’s fingers twitched. “Did you plan this?”

“The lightshow? No,” Madara said. Kagami sagged against him, relief and exhaustion playing across his face. “That’s something Tobirama did on his own.” And Madara would have a talk with him about it too. What on earth was that? Since when could he do that? What else—no, that would come later. He could yell at him later when he was awake. “I’ll be frank, the enemy that besieged you attacked us too. We fought them off but things happened that I would rather elaborate within closed doors. We come in peace and,” he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, “I, Clan Head Madara of the Uchiha, hereby request refuge within thy walls.”

Hashirama raised his head, finally looking at Madara, although his hand never ceased in its movements. Madara took that as an encouragement and continued. “I know we only had just a few meetings before our communications were cut off and there is nothing more official than a ceasefire, but I would like to ask you to consider an alliance, even a temporary one. These same men have been attacking both of our people and Tobirama and I agreed that we would have a better chance against them should we unite our forces.”

Madara took a deep breath before he added, quietly, “It is a lot to ask. But my people were threatened and…” he trailed off. It was more than he had wanted to admit, especially where anyone could listen, but he reminded it was for his clan. His pride was nothing in the name of his kin’s survival.

Something softened in Hashirama at that and the tight lines that marred his skin Madara now recognised as signs of fatigue rather than anger.

“Of course, Madara. I would be glad to call you and your clan an ally.”

Madara let out an explosive sigh and pushed the hair that had fallen on his face behind his shoulder again. “Great. Great. Brilliant, yes. Can we get out of here then? The enemy’s retreating past my range but I would rather not be here in case they want a rematch. Especially with all the children here.”

“Ah, yes.” Hashirama blinked. He stared at Madara, finally noticing Kagami shivering now that the adrenaline had left his veins, and then lowered his chin to catch the sight of his sleeping brother. “Yes, that would be—yes. Let’s go.”

Madara hoisted Kagami to his back just as Hashirama stood and lifted Tobirama as if the man was not built of pure muscle. He then looked around as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. A sheepish smile crept on his face and Madara was reminded of the kid by the river he once knew.

“Sorry about the trees,” came the embarrassed apology. If Hashirama wasn’t holding onto Tobirama, Madara was sure he would have scratched the back of his head the way he used to. Madara couldn’t help it. The stress of the past weeks and the relief that things might finally start looking up caught up to him.

He laughed.

***

The walk to the Senju compound was tense despite the promises Hashirama had made. While his kin mostly believed in Madara and Tobirama’s word, it would be difficult to assuage them of the worry that the Senju would not keep their word and would attack when they were at their weakest. Especially with the demonstration of power Hashirama had unintentionally made.

His old friend had sent some of his shinobi ahead to clear the south side of the compound for them. As they walked, Hashirama explained that there were a few houses they had used as storage there and some of the house owners could be asked to temporarily move in with their other family. It would be cramped but all they could do on such short notice. He and Madara both agreed that it would make more sense of giving them an area they could use as their own rather than mix and blend their respective clans just yet.

To be honest, Madara was just glad this was an option; any alternative could have been explosive in nature. Considering everything, Hashirama was very accommodating. There was relief in the knowledge that neither his memory nor Tobirama had been wrong about him. Subconsciously he found himself giving Tobirama yet another glance. He was still fast asleep, as out like a light as Kagami on his back. Madara wondered if having Amaterasu make herself seen the way she did was hard on his body. He hadn’t seemed to have any problems with her before.

“—he didn’t actually want to, but then I convinced him that he had to look at it from another point of view. Of course—” Hashirama kept talking and talking and Madara kept nodding and nodding at what he hoped were the appropriate places. His distraction came from keeping his senses open, weaving his chakra in the air, and having his eyes on their clans that followed them; separate yet walking beside each other, similar to Madara and Hashirama themselves. No fighting had broken out yet despite the obvious suspicion.

A shadow fell on Tobirama’s face and the lines Amaterasu had painted on his skin deepened. His sharp features grew even more severe yet the expression couldn’t be called anything other than peaceful. It was very contradictory, the way the man himself was. Infuriating. Tobirama was a very infuriating man.

“—Other than that, I would say he performed admirably. Thankfully Hikaku managed to diffuse the situation with just a—”

In front of him, but getting closer each step, waited a ball of fire-made-lightning that filled Madara with desperate longing and jealousy. Hashirama had his brother now. He could touch him, feel him, see that he was all right. Madara only had the word Hikaku had given. Not that he didn’t trust his cousin, but Madara had never known Izuna to be as still as he could sense him being now. Even when he was studying and cursing the ancient scrolls he was always in motion. Now, though, he had not moved from his spot at all since he had entered Madara’s range.

“You will like it here, I think. It’s better than it used to be, under Butsuma that is,” Hashirama said, casually forgoing calling the former Senju head his father. Tobirama did not have many kind words to spare anytime their father had come up but Hashirama made it clear he was not the only one. There was resentment there that Madara lacked in relation to his and Izuna’s father. Tajima may not have been perfect, but he had not alienated his children the way Butsuma clearly had done.

Butsuma had fanned the flames using Tobirama’s condition as his weapon, Madara recalled. There had been shadows on his face when he had told him that. Clearly the wounds that resulted went deeper than skin. Kagami rubbed his cheek against Madara’s shoulder. He settled when Madara shifted his grip and did not wake.

But while Hashirama had told him many of Hikaku and Izuna’s adventures within the Senju, there was still one question he had not answered.

“What happened to Izuna?” Madara finally interrupted Hashirama. His friend sighed and the trees above shivered with him.

“I had hoped you wanted to wait until you saw him.” To Hashirama’s credit, he did not avoid the topic at the very least and launched into the tale. “A couple of days ago he was on guard rotation. His suggestion, not mine. Not that I wouldn’t have considered him but there were some lingering issues that Butsuma’s generation refused to address.

“It took him weeks to make nice with the clan, but he was… determined, I could say. Charming. If Hikaku hadn’t been there, I think he might have gotten hurt by some misplaced jealousy.” Hashirama laughed lightly. “Whatever it was, it was enough for Saki to vouch for him to join her. Although she may have just wanted to get to know him better to know where to stab him if he did anything suspicious. Which she didn’t! Tobirama’s been teaching two of her children when she has been on missions so she was invested—”

The man definitely had not changed. Madara hopped over an overgrown root and growled, “Hashirama.”

“Ah, yes.” Hashirama adjusted his grip on Tobirama. “So Saki took him to the wall. They weren’t supposed to go outside at all, but one of our patrols didn’t report back, and Tokunori sent her to check on them. She’s a tracker, you see.” Hashirama lifted his head and Madara followed it. He saw the walls of the Senju compound peek behind the trees.

It was like Tobirama had described them. Thick-looking and wooden, it would take time to burn through them and the seals that had to be reinforcing them, but Madara could instantly see that he could do it if he put his mind to it. They were neither too high nor too low too; Madara couldn’t see houses from where he stood, only a couple tower-like buildings on the opposite ends from the gate they neared. The forest was dense around them.

They would make it work.

“They were ambushed when they found the patrol.” Hashirama’s expression tightened. “The white men had killed Rie, but Izuna and Saki managed to fight them off Momo. Only they managed to slice under Izuna’s armour and his leg broke when they made their retreat.”

Madara gritted his teeth so he would not start yelling at his fellow clan head. Deep down he knew it was not Hashirama’s fault; it was all on Zetsu and his mistress. But it was under Hashirama’s nose and he had let it happen. He had given Izuna under his care. He could have died and Madara hadn’t been there. He hadn’t been there.

Izuna could have died and Madara hadn’t been there.

“I healed him as best as I could, but I ordered him to rest. The third time he tried to stand without permission Hikaku suggested tying him to the bed.” A small grin flashed across his face. “The threat worked. He’s been the perfect patient ever since.”

Madara wasn’t ready to find humour in the situation. His heart picked up its pace as the gates were pulled open for them. The teenager from earlier was there with two women, one of which had a curiously eye-catching red mane in comparison to her brown-haired companion.

Hashirama greeted them warmly. “Hideki, Misao, Mako-san. Is everything taken care of?”

“The houses have been prepared,” the woman with the mousy bun said. “Haruto will have words with you later.”

“I will take him up on it tomorrow.” Hashirama gestured at the trio. “Misao and Uzumaki Mako-san will see to your people. I am sure Hikaku will help them settle in. Would you like to…?”

See Izuna? Yes. Absolutely. His presence burned like the sun within Madara’s open senses. “Let me give my instructions to Hikaku and the others first.”

Hashirama nodded but gave Tobirama a meaningful look. Madara scowled and marched to where Hikaku was in deep discussion with his mother and Kikyo. Honestly, who was Hashirama to hurry him along? As if he wasn’t aware of Tobirama’s condition! As if he didn’t want to just go and see how his _injured_ little brother was doing! As if—!

Madara reached them in five seconds flat. “I want you to—”

“Get the clan settled,” Hikaku finished his sentence before he could do so himself. Madara stared at him.

“Oh, close your mouth before you attract flies,” Kikyo harrumphed. Her beady little eyes followed the Senju nearby without even blinking. “We don’t want any of them thinking our head is a moron.”

Madara did so with an audible clack. His soon-to-be disowned relatives just gave him a look that spoke silent judgement.

“Get the clan settled,” Hikaku repeated, his stern look melting into something softer. “Make sure everything is all right with them. Take care of their wounds, answer the questions they may have. You will be back when you have finalised things with Hashirama and have seen to Izuna. We know, Madara. Go to see your brother. He has missed you just about as much as I imagine you have him.”

Madara swallowed a lump that had threatened to start growing in his throat. “Yes, I—good. I just wanted to check if you knew.” And then, more sincerely, he added, “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

Since Madara couldn’t watch Kagami and ‘make nice’ with the Senju at the same time, he left him in Kotori’s capable hands. The child would need rest and he wasn’t sure if there were any to be had where he was going. He caught up to Hashirama easily and together they made their way to the heart of the compound.

The surroundings were a blur to him the closer they got. He was barely aware of leaving his shoes by the door and when Hashirama finally stopped to enter a room—one that _didn’t_ house Izuna— something in Madara just snapped. Ignoring Hashirama’s calls from behind him, he stomped towards the unmoving crackling chakra that was Izuna. He quickened his steps, the floorboards creaking under him, and threw the door open.

And, there, sitting on his bed with a small mountain of scrolls as if there was nothing wrong in the world, was his brother. His living, breathing brother who he hadn’t seen in what felt like eternity, hadn’t been able to reach for or _touch_, whereas Hashirama had dangled his own joy in front of Madara—

The situation could be remedied. Immediately.

Before Izuna could even greet him Madara was there, arms thrown around him, and squeezing him harder than was needed as the scrolls went tumbling down to the floor. Izuna muffled something into his chest and then there were another set of arms hugging him close just as tightly. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent that was purely Izuna.

And for the first time in weeks, Madara felt completely at ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	22. Tobirama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all doing well! Here's another chapter of these disaster humans, now with more Izuna and Hashirama!

He was floating. His back was leaning on something soft, covered in scents that reminded him of home. His muscles ached and his joints hurt but the pain was only a memory of the utter exhaustion that kept him locked in this wonderful dream.

He drifted in and out of consciousness, heard closer and further away voices that were all people he knew he should know but for some reason did not recognise. One of them felt particular familiar, as if a gentle breeze whispering him to come home. It was comforting, light yet heavy at the same time, calling him to join him back to—what?

Where was he supposed to go back to?

The air turned warmer and warmer until it was difficult to breathe. He was standing somewhere, surrounded by trees that yelled, with an inferno at his back. The heat curled around his feet, grounding him, when he stared into the cold abyss before him. The white was so cold it froze his breath, stealing air from his lungs while the summer lord from earlier was battling the cruel winter mistress trying to force him down from his dying seat.

White. He remembered white, a warm white countering the cold that painted the world in purity and not in death, a woman whose beauty was not hidden behind lies. He remembered spring calling for his name. He remembered falling, little pieces of him hitting the ground in faded colours.

A kiss was laid on his temple.

_Come back to us._

And with that quiet request, Tobirama opened his eyes.

***

His room hadn’t changed a bit. The door to his closet he had forgotten ajar still wasn’t closed with the shelves gathering dust, the shoes from that one midnight rendezvous were still under the same chair. Neither were there no new scrolls on his desk either from what he could see. The only things that did not belong were the empty cup of tea next to his futon and the pillow that usually could be seen in the sitting room.

He reached over. The cup still had lingering warmth to it. He hadn’t been alone for long.

“You can come out now.”

The warmth curled inside his soul didn’t even stir. Tobirama frowned.

“Amaterasu?”

He didn’t know how but he could _feel_ her shaking her head in a wild arch. She was still silent. Tobirama was growing worried. “Please.” When she didn’t budge, he repeated softly, throwing her own words back to her, “Come back to us.”

That made her move, if bristling in guilt could be called moving. Tobirama waited, watching the familiar ceiling as he did so. Slowly, like a flower revealing itself from its bud, she reluctantly uncoiled. The child-like goddess sat down next to him on the futon, pushing against him like a moping cat.

“How are your people?” Tobirama asked. He would have opened his senses to see for himself, but he had learned from his mistakes. He remembered the last time Amaterasu filled him with her light and he was not willing to risk the migraine.

Amaterasu pulled her knees to her chest. _…I don’t know,_ she muttered. _I haven’t seen to them myself._

That struck as odd to Tobirama; all that trouble and she wouldn’t go to see them? When he voiced his question, her smile curved gently and reached to trace his hand.

_You needed me_, she said. _Kaguya has always been enchanting. I didn’t want you to be lost in her spell._

“So I was right. That was her.” Tobirama watched the fingers lingering on his skin. “But it isn’t Tsukuyomi’s celebration yet.”

_What you saw was her prophet_, Amaterasu replied, _and her influence on him, the little piece of herself she managed to tie to his soul to keep him from dying and the world from forgetting her. She hasn’t escaped yet or I would have felt it. I think even human sight could see the trappings break._

Tobirama thought on the implications for a moment. “They can probably see me the same way then, can’t they?” he asked.

_Do you mean other spirit-touched? _Tobirama inclined his head. Amaterasu frowned, twisting a strand of her hair in thought. _Perhaps. You must realise that this is a highly irregular situation. The gods, myself included, often leave mortals to their own devices and only guide them when they so ask. As one of mine, your aura is affected by me the way Kaguya has influenced others, if brighter and purer; it was how I could see her touch on her followers._

_However, we rarely if ever form a bond such as ours. I have changed you to accommodate me more than any other of my chosen but even I did not go as far as Kaguya. What she did was an anomaly. I have never heard of a god taking a piece of their soul and gifting it to anyone; what she essentially did was to give him faux immortality and her whispers in his ears, taking away his freedom of choice. With her constant presence, he won’t even realise there is something wrong with him and his actions._

“Doesn’t that mean that he might be…” Tobirama made a face. “Innocent?”

Amaterasu shook her head. _He could have rejected the piece as the parasite it was if he wanted to before it could take root. There are priests he could have gone to. Perhaps he thought he could use her, perhaps he truly wanted to serve her. It no longer matters. Her corruption is all he is today. I doubt there is anything left there of the man he might once have been._

“You once called him her ‘creation’.”

_Because that is fundamentally what he is. Seeing him in person confirmed this to me. He is no longer a man the way you or my people are. He is simultaneously something more and less, something between a ‘he’ and an ‘it’._

Which would explain his fiendish appearance. Tobirama avoided looking at his arms painted in Amaterasu’s symbols nor the white strands that tickled his cheeks. He had often been called inhuman himself, a demon in everything but form.

And now he no longer had that either.

_Yesterday was an accident on my side,_ Amaterasu tacked on, ignorant of Tobirama’s inner turmoil._ I answered your call with too much force in my worry. You could see what I did and that burned you out._

“I would have called you even knowing the risks.” But it did raise a question of if… “What you did, did it leave any permanent marks, physical or spiritual?”

_I pulled my power back immediately after I realised the strain I put on you. But—_

“But you cannot be sure. I understand.”

It did not make it any easier to swallow, but he understood. He truly believed she did not mean to be anything like Kaguya but the thought of turning out anything like _Zetsu_, by accident or not, was… unsettling.

Tobirama combed his hair from his eyes and peered out the window. The sun was high up. “Yesterday, you said?”

Amaterasu peered at him, confusion painted on her face, but she allowed his abrupt change of topic. _Yes. Madara has been in and out of the house. Just now he came to fetch your brother to see to the arrangements an Uzumaki woman and an Uchiha by the name of Hikaku had made. _Amaterasu considered her words and then, curiously, said, _Madara’s very loud when he’s with your brother._

Tobirama had nothing to say to that. “Could you go see if there is anyone here?” he asked. “Or if it takes longer than half an hour for someone to return. I do not think it will be a good idea for me to stand just yet but I am going to need to eat soon.”

_You just want me gone_, she accused softly. Tobirama refused to show how close to the truth her words were. She leaned over and brushed the tips of her fingers against his forehead, just as feather-like as her kiss.

“Walk with your people. You can see I am fine now.”

_Yes, my Beloved_.

The endearment felt cold as Amaterasu flounced into the air and through the wall. As soon as she was gone, he stretched his legs and toes but the strain her full power had put on him still echoed in aches he had never felt before. He hadn’t been kidding when he had said he wouldn’t stand yet. He wasn’t certain he physically could without help. An exhaustion he had never felt before lingered and tied him down better than anything Hashirama had ever tried on his own.

He was drawn back to the cooling cup of tea. Hashirama had been waiting for him to wake up. The thought was not as unpleasant as the other times he had been bedridden and his brother had kept annoying him with his dramatic flair. For once Tobirama was looking forward to seeing that worry directed at him. It meant he still cared.

The door to his room opened and he blinked when a familiar face with long dark hair cascading down his back peeked inside.

“Is she gone?” Izuna demanded, glancing around suspiciously. “You stopped talking so she should be gone, right?”

“She… is,” Tobirama replied slowly. With one decisive nod, Izuna slipped inside and closed the door behind him. He had what looked like makeshift crutches made from branches keeping him upright as he hobbled to where Tobirama was sitting. “I thought you liked Amaterasu.”

“The fewer people who know I don’t spend every moment in that godforsaken bed the better.” His former nemesis slumped down next to Hashirama’s cup, picked it up and sniffed it, and then downed it in one go. Tobirama wrinkled his nose.

“That was Hashirama’s.”

“Yeah, and it tastes like it too. That stupid tree uses too much honey.” Izuna set it back down and then Tobirama found himself under careful scrutiny. “You look like shit.”

“Somehow I am not surprised.”

“Yeah yeah, godly intervention and all that.” The wave of hand would have been insulting had Izuna not continued with, “Not that I am in much better shape either thanks to the white fuckers. Let me tell you, right now even _you_ are far preferable company compared to them, White Demon or not.”

“I am honoured.”

“You should be.”

They both fell silent as they kept inspecting the other, waiting for the other one to speak. Izuna did not look too worse off despite his words. There were dark circles under his eyes and his leg was clearly on the mend but otherwise he looked annoyingly chipper in an almost calculating manner. Tobirama wondered if that was something natural or practiced until it seemed so; he would not be surprised if it was either. That and the many differences in looks made him so very different from brother. Whereas Madara was broader and of a stockier build, Izuna was deceptively slender. Tobirama had learned not to underestimate the man as while Tobirama was physically stronger and faster, Izuna’s agility and ability to read people was something even beyond his sharingan.

Most forgot that little brothers could be just as deadly as their older siblings. It was often their last mistake.

“What do you want, Izuna?”

“What, I can’t just come and see how my favourite albino is doing?” Izuna drawled. When Tobirama said nothing, Izuna also wiped the smirk off his face. “I want to hear what was going on in the Uchiha compound.”

That made little sense to Tobirama and he said so. “Didn’t Madara tell you everything already?”

“Sure. Only what he thinks is everything rarely is. You are more analytical than he is, so I want to hear your side.”

That made even less sense. “You would trust my word,” he said dryly. “Over your brother’s.”

Izuna snorted derisively. “Of course not,” he denied. “But you believe in this ‘peace’. You would never sabotage your brother’s dream—” Izuna’s eyes gleamed for a second, “—nor mine, if what Madara… _said_ is true.”

They eyed each other again. Neither of them was fit for battle unlike when Izuna had gone to meet Tobirama in Madara’s place. They had formed a shaky truce over their brothers’ dream and the necessity of the present. It could—should, probably—carry over to now too. Many things he had found out about Izuna at the Uchiha compound spoke in favour of that as well.

“Very well,” Tobirama said then. “I will give you the summary and you point out when you need elaborating.”

Izuna nodded and settled down more comfortably. “Will do.”

“Then you will do the same.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

One more glance, a shared snort, and then Tobirama started recounting the events from his perspective. Izuna was mostly quiet, piping up once or twice to ask a question, but was generously letting Tobirama share his side without many interruptions. He kept nodding at points, as if confirming something he had heard from Madara, and sometimes making small noises of understanding. When Tobirama got to the part where Kagami joined their household, he couldn’t stop asking how the child was.

“Apparently he’s been moaning about seeing you since the moment he woke up.” After noticing Tobirama’s alarm, Izuna rolled his eyes. “From _sleep_, not injury.”

“Ah,” was all Tobirama could think to say. “Well. Soon after that came the attempt at our lives…” Tobirama recounted the attack, what they had done and figured out after it, and how they had slowly formed a plan to better their defence only for Madara to decide they would be safer together after the failed attempt to reach the Senju.

“Mm-hm,” Izuna hummed, nodding as Tobirama reached the end. There was an odd look on his face as if he had picked up on something Tobirama left unsaid. He was certain that he hadn’t; everything he knew he had shared. “And now we are all here.”

“Yes.” When Izuna didn’t say anything, only hummed again, Tobirama prodded him with, “And I am most curious what transpired here.”

“Nothing as exciting as with you, clearly,” came the dry reply. “Mostly Hikaku and I have been battling the prejudice against us. We didn’t have the convenient ‘oh, I am your goddess’ new avatar’ shtick that you had. Mako has been very helpful on that front.”

“She is very much like her cousin that way.”

“Which makes Mito-sama very delightful, I’m sure. In any case, your elders are impossible but the kids are delightful little demons. I especially enjoyed the approach of this one girl, Akane. She’s been hounding on her father after he took offence at my being anywhere outside this house.”

“So Akane did change her mind,” Tobirama said, his tone gentling. “I am glad to hear that.”

“She credited her teacher when she said a particularly offensive insult at her father’s intelligence. What was his name again, Harima?”

“Haruto. And thank you.”

“What?” Then Izuna’s eyes widened, immediately grasping his meaning which was a nice change of pace. “Wait, _you_ are the teacher?”

Tobirama said nothing, only let his mouth quirk in a small, proud grin. “She is very sharp.”

“And who have _you_ been cursing to give her the vocabulary?!”

“Mostly the elders.” Tobirama paused and then shrugged. “Though she must have been spying on me like she and her friend used to. I try not to do so in front of the children.”

“And _you_ didn’t sense her?”

“And _you_ in particular should know sensing requires effort.”

“Ugh, don’t try that teachy approach on me!” Izuna complained but his mouth pulled into a smirk. “If you were anyone else, I might say you did a good job.”

“And if you were anyone else, I might even say thank you.”

The smirk turned into a scowl. “I have a very hard time hating you. Stop being funny.”

Tobirama merely raised his brows. The scowl on Izuna’s face deepened before he sighed, expression smoothing over. “Fine, so in short, we had none of the excitement. We did realise our messages were being intercepted but the enemy kept away from the part of the forest Hashirama had grown and out of the sensible sensing range so we couldn’t get a good look on them. After two patrols wound up dead Hashirama decided against sending more out. The confrontation I got this injury in—" Izuna gestured at his leg, “—was also the first time we saw them and got out mostly alive. That was just a couple of days ago. After that they picked up on their slack and attempted to siege us.”

“We kept them busy quite probably,” Tobirama mused. He tapped his knee in his thought. “I will have to ask my brother for details.”

“Hikaku will know more about the logistics. I focused on networking.”

“Because you are so charming.”

“Why, thank you!” Tobirama scowled at Izuna’s self-satisfied tone. “But there is still one more question I would like to ask you.”

“Only one?” Tobirama retorted as Izuna hadn’t even finished his own share. “Well, hit me.”

“Don’t mind if I do, I want to show Akane I can totally kick your ass in a fight.” Blithely, without giving Tobirama a chance to answer, he tacked on, “How has Madara been these past weeks? You barely mentioned him.”

Tobirama frowned, tilting his head the tiniest bit. “But I have been talking about him this whole time.”

“What he _did_, yes, but not _how_ he has _been_.”

Because of course he would like to make a point out of Madara’s welcome. Tobirama hid his sigh and replied, “He has been missing you of course, but he trusted my brother to keep you safe. He was welcoming despite our history and continued trying to make it easier for us to make a difference for your clan. He let me help your sick to better your standing and together with Touka we attempted to make the compound into a fortress that the enemy couldn’t breach—”

“This is still doing, not being,” Izuna interrupted. Tobirama felt his temper spike.

“What do you want me to say?” he barked and continued despite Izuna’s raised hands. “He’s been trying to make it work for the clan and for myself and Touka. He missed you terribly and was almost lost when he realised how little he could do to see you. He’s been running himself ragged to give any semblance of hope to your kin while mediating between Amaterasu and them, even been wonderful to Kagami when he lost the last of his support network! Even when asked to rest, he just _wouldn’t_, the stupid man—” Tobirama hissed, abruptly ending his tirade as Amaterasu emerged from the doorway. His stomach dropped when he saw her and based on Izuna’s narrowed eyes did not do a good job immediately hiding his wince.

_Oh, you have a guest!_ she chirped, much cheerier than she was before. _Your brother and Madara are returning now._

“And how long will it take?” Tobirama asked, ignoring how Izuna’s expression switched from somewhat annoyed to pleased and then back to annoyed.

_They left the southern part of the compound a few minutes ago. They seemed to be in a hurry._

Spirits give him strength. “Amaterasu returned and said our brothers are returning in around three minutes.”

“Oh, good. Then I have just enough time to pretend I was nowhere near you.” The threat to keep his mouth shut was loudly implied so Tobirama decided not to say that Madara had probably already inferred that they were both awake and in the same room. He had a feeling Izuna knew that too. “One more thing before I go.”

“What now, Izuna?” Tobirama asked, unable and unwilling to hide his exasperation.

Izuna grinned sharply, his teeth glinting from where the light hit them. “My brother went and fell in love and I will not stand for his heart to be broken needlessly.” Izuna’s words hit like a whip of spikes, bloody and sharp, taking no prisoners. “I suggest you think very hard on what that means.”

He left without a single look back, somehow able to make even his hobble look graceful. Amaterasu kindly said nothing when Tobirama’s stomach started twisting uncomfortably, knowing the feeling was reflected on his face.

Madara, he—

So it wasn’t just caring. Tobirama hid his face in his hands and fell back, pulling the covers over him to hide himself from the world. What was Izuna _thinking_, saying that out loud? What was his game? What did he _want_ when he clearly—gods, Tobirama took back _every_ nice thought he ever may have had about the Uchiha heir. What could Madara even _want_ with someone like—

Unfortunately, that was the moment familiar yelling carried over from the open window. Tobirama groaned. “Any chance—?”

_No_.

Her overly cheerful tone made everything three times worse.

“Thought so.”

But he could still pretend he was dead to the world until his cheeks no longer burned like they were hit by a katon.

***

“Tobirama!” Kagami yelled as he flung the door open and jumped to where Tobirama had mostly collected himself and thus removed himself from beneath his safe haven. He avoided looking at Madara’s direction although he could see his strong form from the corner of his eye.

“Kagami,” Tobirama scolded lightly when the boy fell on him with an ‘oomph’. He couldn’t continue, however, because Kagami started babbling about being ‘so worried about you’ and how he ‘couldn’t even see you, Hikaku-nii was keeping me away’ even though Kagami had insisted that Tobirama 'wouldn’t mind’.

“I can stay with you, can’t I? You promised and you never go back on your promise so I can, right? Right?” the boy babbled and only quieted down when Tobirama placed his hand over his mouth.

“Yes, you are welcome to stay.” Kagami said something but it was muffled and unintelligible. Tobirama removed his hand only to ruffle his hair. “Calm yourself.” He looked over the child to give his teary-eyed brother a judgemental look. Hashirama shifted on his feet, practically vibrating. Tobirama let out a loud sigh, exaggerating it for the maximum effect. He lifted his other arm in clear invitation.

Hashirama didn’t waste a single moment.

“TOBIRAMA!” he wailed and threw his whole strength into the hug, accidentally taking both Tobirama and Kagami down with him. “YOU ARE ALL RIGHT!”

“Yes, anija. Yes, I am.” He slid his hand through Hashirama’s silky locks as he absently petted the shaking man. “How is the clan? Are they making any trouble?”

“Thankfully not,” Madara replied instead and Tobirama tilted his head to see past his brother. Madara was leaning against the door frame, watching Hashirama with the same level of exasperation Tobirama felt himself. “We’ve managed to keep the clans mostly separate for the time being but it’s only a matter of time before we have to let them mingle.” He switched the target of his attention to Tobirama who had to fight with himself so Izuna’s parting words wouldn’t bring another incriminating hue to his cheeks. “What did Izuna want?”

“He asked my side of what went down at your compound,” Tobirama answered honestly.

“Was he any trouble?”

“More than usual, you mean?”

Madara snorted, barking a loud laugh. “You have him pegged.”

“I did face him on the field for years.”

“That you did. It makes me happy to hear he was willing to make an effort without prompting.” Madara shook his head. “Hikaku and he have been busy with familiarising the Uchiha to your clan. While they have made ground, Hashirama’s stories make it sound there have been more mishaps than Izuna wants to admit.”

As if hearing his name mentioned summoned him from his theatrical act, Hashirama sniffed one last time and finally let Tobirama breath freely. “I am so glad you are all right,” he said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. He beamed. “Welcome home, Tobirama.”

“I am home, anija,” Tobirama replied, smiling back. He couldn’t not when his brother was looking so happy.

“I have been worried sick over you. When I didn’t hear from you I was going to go and see what was wrong but then Miyuki and Setsurou’s patrols were killed and I had to believe Madara was taking good care of you. He told me about the assassination attempt and then one of the sensors thought they had sensed an Uchiha nearby but they then disappeared into thin air so when you activated the seeds I just—” Hashirama swallowed the rest of his words to pull Tobirama up for another squeezing hug. “If you had died, I don’t know what I would have done. You can’t leave again. I won’t allow it.”

“I will have to go on a mission sooner or later, you know,” Tobirama said gently. Hashirama shook his head as he let him go again.

“Nuh-uh, nope. Not until you are at least thirty-five.”

Tobirama rolled his eyes. Amaterasu giggled, the only sign to let him know she was still present and had not gone visiting others.

“Thank you for trusting my abilities, brother.”

“Yes!” Kagami piped up, angrily pointing at Hashirama. “Tobirama is very strong! He can fight anyone!”

“Wha—I do! I do trust your skills!” Hashirama immediately backpedalled as he was met with two very unimpressed stares, skin paling behind his tan. “Don’t believe whatever others say, I do! It’s just—”

Tobirama huffed and he ruffled Kagami’s hair again. The kid melted under his touch. “I was kidding.”

“You—oh.” The relief was deafening when Hashirama exhaled. “You need to work on your tone. I was worried.”

Tobirama decided that his silence would be enough for his answer, giving Madara a meaningful look. The man hid his smirk behind his collar and Tobirama narrowed his eyes at him.

“We brought dinner with us,” Madara drawled, amusement wafting from him like a persistent stench. “I’ll go fetch Izuna and we could meet up in the sitting room? The kitchen’s a mess, thanks to Hashirama’s attempt at breakfast today.” He added, gaining another wail from Hashirama about how cruel and horrible they were all being to him.

“We will meet you there,” Tobirama agreed. Before Madara could leave, however, he gave Tobirama a grin that was blinding yet almost shy in its intensity.

“I’m glad you are all right, Tobirama.”

He disappeared then and Izuna’s words sprung from their hiding place, forcing Tobirama to swallow his suddenly spiking heart.

“Tobirama? You are kind of warm—you are all red! Do you have a fever? Are you alright? Tobirama? Tobi? Oh my word, are you _dying_? I JUST GOT YOU BACK, YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO DIE, NOT ON MY WATCH—” Suddenly hands green with healing chakra were thrown in his face and Tobirama had to fall back to battle against the invasion of his personal space. Kagami rolled away from the sudden assault, blinking owlishly at the wrestling scene in front of him.

“Brother, I do not have a fever—stop it, Hashirama, _anija_,_ don’t you dare stick your hands where I think you are_—"

Amaterasu’s tinkling laugh echoed in the room. His room. Tobirama gave up on his fight and let his brother attempt to heal a hurt that wasn’t there, although his mere presence was almost enough to induce a headache for him to cure. The warm chakra spread over him, surrounding him with the comfort of his brother’s presence and tangible touch.

He closed his eyes and carefully locked all his insecurities and intruding thoughts away. The worries from today could be dealt tomorrow. He hid his smile, for once letting himself enjoy his brother’s fussing.

After all, he was finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to know what you thought if you have the time to spare :)
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://hali-ra.tumblr.com/).


End file.
